He said as he sat in her theatre box Between the acts, "What beastly weather! How like a parrot the lover talks -- And the lady is tame, and the villain stalks -- I hope they finally die together."
He thought -- "_You are fair as the dawn's first ray_; _I know the angels keep guard above you_. _And so I chatter of weather_, _and play_, _While all the time I am mad to say_, _I love you_, _love you_, _love you_."
He said -- "The season is almost run; How glad we are, when the whirl is over! For the toil of pleasure is more than its fun, And what is it all, when all is done, But the stick of a rocket that has descended?"
He thought -- "_Oh God_! _to be off somewhere_ _Afar with you_, _from this scene of fashion_; _To know you were mine_, _and to have you care_, _And to lose myself in the crimson snare_ _Of your lips_, _in a kiss of passion_."
He said -- "You are going abroad, no doubt, This land of Liberty coldly scorning. I too shall journey a bit about, From Wall Street up by the L. Road out To Harlem, and down each morning."
He thought -- "_It must follow on land or sea_, _This pent-up_, _passionate_, _dumb devotion_, _Till the cry of a rapture that may not be_ _Shall reach your heart from the heart of me_ _And stir you with strange emotion_. "
End of title
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