“Come in!” I sternly muttered, while my breast with anger fluttered,
When there sidled in a Figure, such as ne’er was seen before;
Like some stagey apparition, in a woe-begone condition—
And it took up its position just inside my chamber-door.
“What might be your name?” I asked it. And it answered from the door—
“I’m the Drama!”—nothing more!
“Oh, indeed!” I said, politely. “Take a chair!” but that unsightly,
Not to say dejected Figure, an unwilling manner bore.
I remarked, “You seem in sorrow,—still bear up, perhaps to-morrow
(Though some trouble has beset you, which at present you deplore)