One morning, when the sun shone bright
And all the earth was fair,
I met a little city child,
Whose ravings rent the air.
"I lucidly can penetrate
The Which," I heard him say,--
"The How is, wonderfully, come
To clear the limpid way.
"The sentence, rarely, rose and fell
From ceiling to the floor;
Her words were spotlessly arranged,
She gave me, strangely, more."
"What troubles you, my little man?"
I dared to ask him then,--
He fixed me with a subtle stare,
And said, "Most clearly, when
"You see I'm occupied, it's rude
To question of my aims--
I'm going to the adverb school
Of Mr. Henry James!"