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His Stenographer
As he dictates to her
Does she love you?—well, I wonder—
Married twenty years, they say!
You, so bald and fat and funny,
Grubbing like a mole for money?
Guess she likes to spend the plunder—
Gee—she knows the way!
She's a grand one—Lord! what dresses!
Handsome too, proud as a queen—
With her doings in the papers,
Dinners, dances, all the capers,
Likes to lead the show, my guess is!
You're the gold machine!
If she knew you as I know you,
Would she spend it—say?
If she knew each trick and quibble—
Little fishes hooked that nibble,
Business murders—would she show you
Such a grand-stand play?
You're a savage money-maker—
Good to her, though, sure—and me.
Kind old pirate! What in thunder
Does she think of you, I wonder?
What neat stories do you take her,
So she will not see?
poem
by
Harriet Monroe
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