Part 2 — YES?
Reading edition
Is it true, then, my girl, that you mean it— The word spoken yesterday night? Does that hour seem so sweet now between it And this has come day's sober light? Have you woke from a moment of rapture To remember, regret, and repent, And to hate, perchance, him who has trapped your Unthinking consent?
Who was he, last evening—this fellow Whose audacity lent him a charm? Have you promised to wed Pulchinello? For life taking Figaro's arm? Will you have the Court fool of the papers, The clown in the journalists' ring, Who earns his scant bread by his capers, To be your heart's king?
When we met quite by chance at the theatre And I saw you home under the moon, I'd no thought, love, that mischief would be at her Tricks with my tongue quite so soon; That I should forget fate and fortune Make a difference 'twixt Sevres and delf— That I'd have the calm nerve to importune You, sweet, for yourself.
It's appalling, by Jove, the audacious Effrontery of that request! But you—you grew suddenly gracious, And hid your sweet face on my breast. Why you did it I cannot conjecture; I surprised you, poor child, I dare say, Or perhaps—does the moonlight affect your Head often that way?
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You're released! With some wooer replace me More worthy to be your life's light; From the tablet of memory efface me, If you don't mean your Yes of last night. But—unless you are anxious to see me a Wreck of the pipe and the cup In my birthplace and graveyard, Bohemia— Love, don't give me up!
Henry Cuyler Bunner [1855-1896]