An Experience

Tempo Moderate.

I had a dream last night in which I seemedTo see myself a man immortal deemed.My poems, lately placed upon the mart,Had gone straight home to every reader's heart,And fairly falling o'er each other's feet,Demanding copies, mortals thronged the streetBefore the doors of him who had to sellThe dainty verses that I loved so well.Then, as I watched the scramble for my work,An angel came and beckoned—with a smirk—"Fitz-Alfred Massinger De Greene," she said,"Lift up your optics blue and look ahead."The which I did—for you must understandAt all times I obey the soft commandOf angels, whether wingéd ones or thoseWho here do lighten or increase our woes.And as I looked I saw a wondrous sightThat dazzled, 't was so marvelously bright,As well it might be, for the scroll of fameStood straight before my eyes, and there the name—Sensation sweet! Sensation, oh, how blest!—Fitz-Alfred M. De Greene led all the rest.

Andante.

I swooned with very joy, and then I wokeAs yonder church bells sounded forth the strokeAnnouncing morn!I need not here unfoldJust how I rose and dressed. The crisp and coldOf winter lingered in the atmosphere,Yet not for me could anything be drear.The while that dream of bliss did haunt my soul,Life was all joy unmixed with tearful dole.

Allegreto.

But hist! What sound is that I seem to hear?The postman's whistle breaks upon my ear.A missive from my publisher he bringsIn confirmation of my dream—he flingsIt through the open door.Be quick to opeO trusty paper-knife, this envelope.

Allegro.

Egad, it must be true; a check falls out,And here 's a statement of the sales, no doubt.

Crescendo Appassionato Presto.

Let 's see: one thousand copies printed, twoHundred and sixty-seven for review,And still on hand when this year was begun—Ye Gods! no less than seven thirty-one."Inclosed find twenty cents in royalty—Two copies sold!" Scott! They were bought by me!

Doloroso.

Roll on, drear world, nor stop to think of me.I go to-day across the salt, salt sea.I 'll head for Russia, where, the Czar defied,I 'll save myself th' expense of suicide.