Ah, Thomas Jones, young business man, It was a very foolish plan To sit so long in business hours With your unfledged poetic powers Engaged in feeble, fluttering bliss, The net resultant being -- this: "I really do not understand Why that dear art is called shorthand. Her hand that darts the mystic signs Is long, with queenly tapering lines. Longhand I'll call it, whitehand too (Gleaming my darksome office through), And softhand, soft as kitten's fur, The hand of my stenographer! One other name is better still: 'Tis myhand, -- if she only will!" These lines, however, will explain Why Lucy Pratt is rather vain Of one white finger, glittering Since Monday with a diamond ring. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RESPECTABILITY by ROBERT BROWNING MADAGASCAR: AUBADE by WILLIAM DAVENANT THE BOOK OF MARTYRS by EMILY DICKINSON TO LUCY, COUNTESS OF BEDFORD, WITH MR. DONNE'S SATIRES by BEN JONSON AN HORATIAN ODE UPON CROMWELL'S RETURN FROM IRELAND by ANDREW MARVELL |