What I Would

I would have a poet's book,

In a shady summer nook,

Where I could around me look,

As a lover may;

I would have a little hand

In my own; would hold it, and—

Hold it, and—you understand.

That would be my way,

All a summer's day.

I would read a fervent page,

Then explain, a very sage,

All about the poet's rage,

As a lover may;

A modest charge were meet for this,—

Just the brief rubific bliss

Of a not-quite-willing kiss.

That would be my way,

All a summer's day.