A wonder was she -- who would not be won
By truth, sincerity, advice or lie:
Enamored just of cleverness and pun,
And chances to retort them, wise or wry;
A flaccid mind, she'd said, is man's worst shame --
Its exercise, his worthiest endeavor --
Until she told me, tired of this game:
"I'd rather we were honest than so clever."
I told her then: "When I've been up a while
And languid sleep starts seeping into me,
I, as one drunk, speak truth, and lose this guile...
Come by sometime at midnight. Then you'll see."
She swore she would; and giggling at my hints,
She cooed, "Till then! ..." I haven't seen her since.
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