STIVER.
But chiefly after five, when I was free,
I'd rattle off whole reams of poetry--
Ten--fifteen folios ere I went to bed--

FALK.
I see--you gave your Pegasus his head,
And off he tore--

STIVER.
On stamped or unstamped paper--
'Twas all the same to him--he'd prance and caper--

FALK.
The spring of poetry flowed no less flush?
But how, pray, did you teach it first to gush?

STIVER.
By aid of love's divining-rod, my friend!
Miss Jay it was that taught me where to bore,
My _fiancee_--she became so in the end--
For then she was--

FALK.
Your love and nothing more.

STIVER [continuing].
'Twas a strange time; I could not read a bit;
I tuned my pen instead of pointing it;