Last 'eve I came upon my Walk
which said to me in baneful talk,
"Do carry on,
the day is gone,
and do not sit to write or squawk!"

I stood up in exasperation,
heeding to the consultation,
by chance I see,
oh could it be?
My one and only Adoration!

"My Love, my Dear,
why do you linger?"
Said my Darling unto me.
"You stay too long
in Thought and Song
and do not work,
nor lift a finger!"

"This Poem's my work,"
I quick defended,
"All these Abstracts I've befriended.
It takes a long time
to convince them to rhyme
and my poem's not halfway ended!"

Just then Leisure showed up on the scene.
"Why would you say that?
Why be so mean?
Can't you see that she works hard
'most every day?
Those nouns, verbs, and adjectives
get in the way!"

He said this to shield me
from Love's wicked glances.
With Tweedle and Dum
and a bottle of ***
he sat down to enjoy my advances.