“Listen to this,” I said, poking her to keep her awake. “This is Ella
Wheeler Wilcox, Ellen, and they call her the Poet of Passion.” Ellen
groaned, but she had to listen:
“Just for one kiss that thy lips had given
Just for one hour of bliss with thee,
I would gladly barter my hopes of heaven,
And forfeit the joys of eternity;
For I know in the way that sins are reckoned
That this is a sin of the deepest dye,
But I also know if an angel beckoned,
Looking down from his home on high,
And you adown by the gates Infernal
Should lift to me your loving smile,
I would turn my back on the things Eternal,
Just to lie on your breast awhile.”
“Ugh!” said Ellen, “I would scorn to lie on Colonel Stevens’ old fat
breast.”