Her Letter in Chambers

I sat by the fire and watched it blaze,             And dreamed that she wrote me a letter,         And for that dream to the end of my days             To Fancy I owe myself debtor.         Next day there came the postman's knock,             The morning was bright and sunny,         And showed me a sheaf of circulars, stock             Attempts to get hold of my money.         'Mid correspondence of this dull kind             A dainty notelet lay hidden,         It seemed as though it had half a mind             To consider itself forbidden.         The writing was like herself, complete,             With a touch of her queenly bearing,         So Venus wrote when she ordered in Crete             Her doves to take her an airing.         Inside it was just as promising,             'Twas a pressing invitation         To dine at her house to-morrow, and bring             My book for her approbation.         For I have published, be it confessed,             A little volume of verses,         And in the volume whatever is best             The praise of herself rehearses.         I sit by the fire, and again I dream             A happier dream than ever,         I see her beautiful eyes soft gleam             As she murmurs, "How lovely--how clever!"         Her criticism may be commonplace,             But who can be angry after         Now sweet with pity he marks her face,             Now bright with impulsive laughter?