Sophy, scared chambermaid in Pollet’s Hotel, Turned the cornhusk mattress and plumped the pillow With slipshod hands. Then she picked the pillow up And sniffed it greedily. Something in it smelt sweet. The bright, gold lady had slept there the night before⁠— Oh, her lovely, lovely clothes! and the little green bottle That breathed out flowers when you crept into the room And pulled out the silver stopper just far enough To get the sweetness, not far enough to be caught If anyone came. It made her thin elbows ache To think how fine and golden the lady was And how sweet she smelled, how sweet she looked at the men, How they looked at her. “I’d like to smell sweet,” she thought, “Smell like a lady.” She put the hard pillow back. The lady and the green bottle had gone away. —If only you had clever hands⁠—after the next sleeper⁠—