A girl in a Godey’s Lady’s Book steel-engraving, I would have no body or legs, no aches or delusions. I would know what to do. I would marry a man called Mister. We would live in a steel-engraving, in various costumes Designed in the more respectable Paris modes, With two little boys in little plush hats like muffins, And two little girls with pantalettes to their chins. I must do that, I think. But now my light feet know That they will be tired and burning with all my dancing Before I cool them in the exquisite coolness Of water or the cool virginal sheets of virgins, And a face comes swimming toward me out of black broadcloth And my heart knocks. Who are you, why are you here? Why should you trouble my eyes? No, Mr. Wingate, I cannot agree with you on the beauties of Byron. But why should something melt in the stuff of my hand, And my voice sound thin in my ears?