If you were ferryman at Charon's ford,
And I came down the bank and called to you,
Waved you my hand and asked to come aboard,
And threw you kisses there, what would you do?
Would there be such a crowd of other girls,
Pleading and pale and lonely as the sea,
You'd growl in your old beard, and shake your curls,
And say there was no room for little me?
Would you remember each of them in turn?
Put all your faded fancies in the bow,
And all the rest before you in the stern,
And row them out with panic on your brow?
If I came down and offered you my fare
And more beside, could you refuse me there?