The Schoolboy’s Devil

You knew, of course, my special devil?
His cunning and his boldness charmed;
Pressed to my breast this sprite of evil
I warmed.

At first he worried me with fear;
I timid was, and mild, and young.
My shoulders were too weak to bear
His tongue.

Holding some mild traditions yet,
I shook and trembled, oft, in awe,
Till, lo! in him the Muse’s pet
I saw.

He caught me, then, with flash of phrase,
With living fantasies entranced,
And wicked eyes from grave to gay
He glanced!

With fiery speech well fused together,
Our friendly union grew complete,
Although at times with wintry weather
We’d meet.

Designing once to cause his death,
My fingers in a cross I twirled,11
Out came his tongue; off in a breath
He whirled.

But scarcely dawns the Eastern light,
The nightly blackness scarce is o’er,
Ere back he comes, my foe, my sprite,
Once more.

How smart he’s grown! and well up, too,
In Darwin’s and Descartes’ style!
He knows the sex; nor strange to loo
Meanwhile.

And chess he also right well knows,
And often billiards is his fad—
At times about this game he grows
Quite mad.

You knew him well, of course, of yore,
He cunning was, and boldly charmed;
I pressed him to my bosom’s core,
And warmed.

Ah! have I tired my friendly sprite?
His friendship’s flame has colder grown;
He now forgets and leaves me quite
Alone.

Footnotes

11 I.e. made with the two first fingers and thumb, the sign of the Russian cross.