In publishing this a few years ago, the New York Tribune said, “The above exquisite poem was written in 1857, when the young lady, the author, was under 20. It was addressed to a certain young gentleman, the hero of the occasion portrayed. James Redpath thought so well of the poem that he published quite an edition on white satin ribbon. Whittier, the poet, wrote of it and its young author, that she had ‘mastered the secret of English rhythm.’”
Thereupon the “bad man” of the Chicago Tribune broke out as follows:—
You kicked me! my head dropped low on my vest
With a feeling as if I would like to go west,
While the cock-and-bull story about my rich love
For your daughter—my Mabel, had flown like a dove.
Your fist held me fast—oh, my back was so cold;
Boot beat against pants, and each hearty kick told.
Your boot toe seemed knocking my spine through my eyes,
As the White Stocking boys knock the sky scraping flies.