“The Prince of Darkness is a gentleman.”
Twelfth Night.
MY little Red Devil upon my desk
With a smile sardonic stands.
He holds my pen with a patient air
In his crooked, outstretched hands;
The paint is worn from his hoof and horn
And scratched is his curving tail,
Yet he still holds on with a right good grace,
A knowing look on his crafty face,
And spirits that never fail.
So, what if his fingers are some of them gone,
And twisted the horns on his head?
His cheek still glows, and his aquiline nose
Is a genuine devilish red;
And his tail, beside, is a thing of pride,
For it swings in a glorious sweep,
With a graceful bend and a fork in the end
That would cause a sinner his ways to mend,
Or a saint, his vows to keep!
Though only a single eye has he
The world and the flesh to view,
(For the right is gone,) yet the other one
Has fire enough for two.
So his eyes ill-mated an air jocund
To his wrinkled features lend,
And to see his look you would almost think
That he was tipping a devilish wink
To his old, familiar friend.
Oh, he is a jolly good fellow, in truth,
With a wit that is ever new,
And a heart like which, in this world of ours,
There are only, I fear, too few.
And he doesn’t complain when I come in late
Or keep him awake o’ nights,
So I have respect for his comfort, too,
By giving the Devil his utmost due,
And the whole of his royal rights.
To everyone else but myself his smile
Is fixed as the solid stone;
He changes the curve of his parted lips
For me, and for me alone.
So when I’m in luck he wishes me joy
With his whole Satanic heart,
But when I’ve the blues, it seems he would say
“Brace up, for the luck will be better some day!”
And my cares like the wind depart.
So my Devil and I are the best of friends
In a sort of a cynical way,
For he watches me out of his only eye
As I work at my desk each day,
And the idle verses I write in hope,
He quietly smiles to see,
For he knows full well that at first or last,
Like Biblical bread on the waters cast,
They will surely come back to me...
And at night, as I sit by the ruddy hearth,
With my pipe and my book, alone,
Or lazily muse by the embers red
When the light of the fire is gone,
I think of him sometimes, and hope in my heart
I never shall see the day
That sets me adrift from my little friend
And puts to our sociable life an end,
By taking my Devil away!...