Recuerdo
We were very tired, we were very merry—
We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry.
It was bare and bright, and smelled like a stable—
But we looked into a fire, we leaned across a table,
We lay on a hilltop underneath the moon;
And the whistles kept blowing, and the dawn came soon.
We were very tired, we were very merry—
We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry,
And you ate an apple, and I ate a pear,
From a dozen of each we had bought somewhere;
And the sky went wan, and the wind came cold,
And the sun rose dripping, a bucketful of gold.
We were very tired, we were very merry,
We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry,
We hailed “Good morrow, mother!” to a shawl-covered head,
And bought a morning paper, which neither of us read;
And she wept, “God bless you!” for the apples and pears,
And we gave her all our money but our subway fares.
—EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY, in Poetry.
I was very sad, I was very solemn—
I had worked all day grinding out a column.
I came back from dinner at half-past seven,
And I couldn’t think of anything till quarter to eleven;
And then I red “Recuerdo,” by Miss Millay,
And I said, “I’ll bet a nickel I can write that way.”
I was very sad, I was very solemn—
I had worked all day whittling out a column.
I said, “I’ll bet a nickel I can chirp such a chant,”
And Mr. Geoffrey Parsons said, “I’ll bet you can’t.”
I bit a chunk of chocolate and found it sweet,
And I listened to the trucking on Frankfort Street.
I was very sad, I was very solemn—
I had worked all day fooling with a column.
I got as far as this and took my verses in
To Mr. Geoffrey Parsons, who said, “Kid, you win.”
And—not not that I imagine that anyone’ll care—
I blew that jitney on a subway fare.
