I sometimes wonder, while my knuckles ache
With unrequited pressure of your digits,
While whispered mysteries of nought you make,
And take no notice of my patent fidgets—
I wonder how a real old friend you'd flatter,
And how reveal a really private matter.
Think but a moment, (if you ever think,)
I never knead your knuckles with my thumb,
I never proffer an untimely drink,
About my own affairs I'm ever dumb,