Black Beetles in Amber

Come, Stanford, let us sit at ease

And talk as old friends do.

You talk of anything you please,

And I will talk of you.

You recently have said, I hear,

That you would like to go

To serve as Senator. That's queer!

Have you told William Stow?

Once when the Legislature said:

"Go, Stanford, and be great!"

You lifted up your Jovian head

And everlooked the State.

As one made leisurely awake,

You lightly rubbed your eyes

And answered: "Thank you—please to make

A note of my surprise.

"But who are they who skulk aside,

As to get out of reach,

And in their clothing strive to hide

Three thousand dollars each?

"Not members of your body, sure?

No, that can hardly be:

All statesmen, I suppose, are pure.

What! there are rogues? Dear me!"

You added, you'll recall, that though

You were surprised and pained,

You thought, upon the whole, you'd go,

And in that mind remained.

Now, what so great a change has wrought

That you so frankly speak

Of "seeking" honors once unsought

Because you "scorned to seek"?

Do you not fear the grave reproof

In good Creed Haymond's eye?

Will Stephen Gage not stand aloof

And pass you coldly by?

O, fear you not that Vrooman's lich

Will rise from earth and point

At you a scornful finger which

May lack, perchance, a joint?

Go, Stanford, where the violets grow,

And join their modest train.

Await the work of William Stow

And be surprised again.