He's poring o'er his books, I trow.
"Poor fellow, what a lot is his!
To be shut up a day like this,
From sunlight, flowers, and wild bird's song,
Trying to balance right and wrong.
"I'll take my tiny little dart,
And lightly touch the lawyer's heart,
And show him how love's sweet, glad light
Can make his dingy office bright."
But when he reached the longed-for spot,