TO THE UNKNOWN NURSE
Moth-like at night you flit or fly
To where the other patients lie;
I hear, as you brush by my door
The flutter of your wings, no more.
Shall I now call you in and see
The phantom vanish instantly?
Perhaps some sixteen stone or worse,
Suddenly falling through my verse!
Nay, be you sour, or be you sweet,
I’d see you not. Life’s wisdom is
To keep one’s dreams. Oh never quiz
The lovely lady in the street!
I knew a man who went large-eyed
And happy, till he bought pince-nez
And saw things as they were. He died
—A pessimist—the other day.