Before your gate from dawn to late
The cheery postman whistles;
And every mail augments the tale
Of amorous epistles
That jingle "heart" with "part" and "dart,"
Nor fail to mention Cupid;
That rhyme "above" and "love" and "dove"--
And other things as stupid.
I pray you, spurn those lines that burn,
Despite their foolish pleading.
To flame consign each Valentine--
Except the one you're reading.
And scorn the host that sent per post
Those missives, poor and shoddy.
"They love you, too?"--Of course they do!
For so does everybody!
But just as sure as snows are pure
And shoes are made of leather,
I do adore and love you more
Than all the rest together!
