But in the early dawn
With dream and sleep and part of youth
The tree is gone.
Lovely! It has a freshness, a sincerity....”
“Oh, honestly? You’re just saying it!”
You answer severely, “I’m not speaking now as a friend, my dear. I’m speaking as a critic.”
“Then could you tell me how to improve it?” she begs. “It needs—something.” You both think deeply.
“M-m-m,” say in a judicial tone. “Let’s see. One thing I’d do, perhaps—but no. Perhaps I’d transpose the words in the penultimate line and then it would read ‘sleep and dream’ instead of ‘dream and sleep.’ Otherwise the thing is perfect.”
She nods vigorously. “Yes, you’re very right. I see it now. Thank you so much. It’s wonderful of you to bother.”
“Bother? It’s no bother. You don’t realize—you can’t realize what your youth does for me. Almost, my dear, almost I forget my figure and my horrible hair and—well, never mind. It doesn’t matter. What does anything matter in the clearness of your voice and the gladness of your face?”