A Sweet Advantage

You say you do not love me?

     I don’t believe it, there;

Of course, you will not own it,

     You’re woman, fair and square.

And who ever knew a woman

     To own a truth like this?

The greater be her silence,

     The greater is her bliss.

Perhaps, tho’, you will tell me

When I return once more;

Oh! yes, abroad I’m going,

     A year on Britain’s shore.

Oh, ho! so you are weeping;

     You love me then, I say?

Well, there, you little rascal,

     I guess I won’t go ‘way.

June 27, ‘94

Pub. in B. Courier,

July 22, ‘94