Said I to a light hearted maiden,
Who airily danced o'er the floor:
Does Love fly away through the window
When Poverty knocks at the door ?
She gave me a glance full of archness,
And curled her sweetlip in a pout--
"Love, sir, is something," she whispered,
"I am sure I know nothing about."
I asked of a man who is richer,
Far richer than Croesus of yore :
"Does Love fly away through the window
When Poverty knocks at the door ?"
"I wish I could tell you," he answered
(While smoothing a crown that is bald),
"For Love is a queen in our household,
But Poverty never has called."
I turned to a sage who had studied
The world, from the rind to the core :
"Does Love fly away through the window
When Poverty knocks at the door ?"
"It does--with the wings of a swallow
And sometimes I've noticed of late,
That Love will fly out through the window
Should Poverty rattle the gate."
Notes
From the Victorian Newspaper The McIvor Times and Rodney Advertiser 20 Sep 1900 p. 2.