And I left in deep depression when she showed me to the door,
Saying, "Bring back that expression, sir, or never see me more!"
Then before my looking-glass I sought, and sought for months in vain,
That expression which, alas! I had forgotten, to my pain,
And I said then, feeling poorly, "I'll go seek the haunts of men,
I could reproduce it surely, if I met with it again:
For, whose-ever--peer's or peasant's--face that heavenly look might
wear,
He should never leave my presence till I copied it, I swear."
Could I meet a schoolboy, madly pleased the day that school begins,
Or a father smiling gladly, when the nurse says "Sir, it's twins!"
Or a well-placed politician who no better place desires,
But achieves his one ambition on the day that he retires,
That expression--'tis my sure hope--on their faces I should get,
So I searched for them through Europe, but I haven't found them yet.
Then I lunched one day with Irving, once I dined with Mr. Tree,
Who in intervals of serving made such faces up at me.
But they failed me, though the former once a look upon me hurled,
Which expressed how the barn-stormer shows disdain of all the world,
And his look of rapture when I rose to go was quite immense,
Though not either now or then I thought it soulful or intense.
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