I tell you, I was put to it
To wake a wonder of my wit
Winged, to avail me from the scorn
Of my own concierge. Adorn
The facts I might ; you know them not ;
But that were just the one black blot
On this love’s lesson : still, to excuse
Myself to you, who could not choose
But make some weak apology
Before the concierge’s eye!
True, you are far too high to accuse—
Perhaps would rather not be told?
You shall hear. Does a miner lose
If through the quartz he gets to gold?
Yes: Nina was a thing of nought,
A little laughing lewd gamine,
Idle and vicious, void of thought,
Easy, impertinent, unclean—
Utterly charming! Yes, my queen!
She had a generous baby soul,
Prattled of love. Should I control,
Repress perhaps the best instinct
The child had ever had? I winked
At foolish neighbours, did not shirk.
Such café Turc I made her drink
As she had never had before;
Set her where you are sitting ; chatted ;
46