AFTER READING A CHAPTER BY HENRY JAMES by ANONYMOUS

AND after Angelina, laying down
The book — that is — she often thought it so;
Had recognized, as one might say, a frown
(Could she translate the answer Yes and No?)
Had taken up the, as it were, effect
Of, Angelina's training had been such
That yet, however harsh and circumspect —
Even her father deemed it overmuch —
One does these things unconsciously, I think,
Thus in proportion as we don't we do;
So pausing rather vaguely on the brink
She wondered, was it by, and if so, to?

For Angelina Hale was not that kind
Of girl, and it would be unfair to say
With such an intuition in her mind
As to these, those — does it matter either way? —
Which she had, of a purpose, I suppose;
And they do have so many ways to choose,
A point which she remembered, last arose
The day she left her arctic overshoes,
And then, of course, that doesn't count for one
Whose very instinct (is it wrong to try?)
Since yes, what other, lesser souls have done,
For which, with what, is oftenest done by.

And thus reflecting, Angelina Hale
Reviewed the thoughts that she had read about,
Then with a smile triumphant, wan, and pale
Sank back upon her pillows, quite fagged out.

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