Is It Me, Darling, or Somebody Else, God Knows Who?—A Love Poem

When you tell me that you never met anyone like me,

And that my blonde hair shines in the sun,

And that you’d rather see me than forty nephews,

And that an hour with me is triumph enough for a whole life,

And that when you talk with me you don’t know where you are you’re so happy,

And that you’d rather press my hand than be in a panel for a discussion of the world with learned professors,—

Darling, are you sure it’s me,

Or somebody else you’ve invented, God knows who—

Not me; just me?