The poet's wife is very good;
She loves his verse, and tells him so;
She says that when he's understood
He to the very top will go
And earn a mint of money, too,
Then, while he seeks with ardor fine
The splendid word, she bustles through:
"I'm looking everywhere for you!
Do come and fasten up the line!"
She wants her jack to make his mark,
And let "those other wretches see"
He has a semblance of the spark
Of inspiration. In comes she,
"Oh, put that horrid pen away,
And come out shopping with me, Jack!
I've got to hurry, cannot stay.
A ton of things I need today,
Much more than I can carry back."
He is a literary star
She says. His lightest rhymes enfold
A boon to all mankind that far
Exceeds the worth of pearls and gold.
And when at last he's in the swing,
And feels that with a chance he could
Wake all the world, she'll sharply sing:
"Oh, I say, Jack, you dear old thing,
Do come and split a bit of wood!"
First published in The Bulletin, 21 March 1918
