"Why not send her 'Let us, then, be up and doing'?" suggested the boy. "That's what I should like if I were she."
"Should you, indeed?" said Longfellow. "That is a good suggestion. Now, suppose you recite it off to me, so that I shall not have to look it up in my books, and I will write as you recite. But slowly; you know I am an old man, and write slowly."
Edward thought it strange that Longfellow himself should not know his own great words without looking them up. But he recited the four lines, so familiar to every schoolboy, and when the poet had finished writing them, he said:
"Good! I see you have a memory. Now, suppose I copy these lines once more for the little girl, and give you this copy? Then you can say, you know, that you dictated my own poetry to me."
Of course Edward was delighted, and Longfellow gave him the sheet as it is here:
Let us, then, be up and doing,
with a heart for any fate,
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
Henry W. Longfellow
Then, as the fine head bent down to copy the lines once more, Edward ventured to say to him:
"I should think it would keep you busy if you did this for every one who asked you."
"Well," said the poet, "you see, I am not so busy a man as I was some years ago, and I shouldn't like to disappoint a little girl; should you?"
As he took up his letters again, he discovered five more requests for his autograph. At each one he reached into a drawer in his desk, took a card, and wrote his name on it.