With Emerson or Epictetus,
Plato or Kant, she used to greet us:
She talked until we all were shocked,
And talked and talked and talked and talked!

She had a lover, and he told
The story that is never old,
While she her father's bootjack worked
A lovely green and gold.
She switched off on Theocritus,
And talked about Democritus;
And his most ardent passion balked,
And talked and talked and talked and talked.

He begged her to become his own;
She talked of ether and ozone,
And painted yellow poodles on
Her brother's razor hone;
Then talked of Noah and Neb'chadnezzar,
And Timon and Tiglath-pileser--
While he at her heart portals knocked,
She talked and talked and talked and talked!

He bent in love's tempestuous gale,
She talked of strata and of shale,
And worked magenta poppies on
Her mother's water pail;
And while he talked of passion's power,
She amplified on Schopenhauer--
A pistol flashed: he's dead! Unshocked,