Alice: An Adultery

THE TWELFTH DAY “ I grant thou wert not married to my Muse And therefore mayst without attaint o’erlook The dedicated words which writers use Of their fair subjects.” The Sonnets. I learnt at last some sort of confidence, Called me the fool I was, knowing my skill Proven of old, all women’s native will To do all things soever that lack sense, Especially if evil : thoughts immense Like this I thought : plumes of my amorous quill I tickled her withal : then grave and still Waited secure : the silence grew intense. She read—and saw me but a beardless boy, Too young to fear, too gentle not to pity, Not overbold ; quite powerless to destroy Her life’s long peace, the ten-year-walléd city. Why be too cruel, check such baby joy ? She said “ I think the poem very pretty.” 34