Come, Stanford, let us sit at ease
    And talk as old friends do.
  You talk of anything you please,
    And I will talk of you.

  You recently have said, I hear,
    That you would like to go
  To serve as Senator. That's queer!
    Have you told William Stow?

  Once when the Legislature said:
    "Go, Stanford, and be great!"
  You lifted up your Jovian head
    And everlooked the State.

  As one made leisurely awake,
    You lightly rubbed your eyes
  And answered: "Thank you—please to make
    A note of my surprise.

  "But who are they who skulk aside,
    As to get out of reach,
  And in their clothing strive to hide
    Three thousand dollars each?

  "Not members of your body, sure?
    No, that can hardly be:
  All statesmen, I suppose, are pure.
    What! there are rogues? Dear me!"

  You added, you'll recall, that though
    You were surprised and pained,
  You thought, upon the whole, you'd go,
    And in that mind remained.

  Now, what so great a change has wrought
    That you so frankly speak
  Of "seeking" honors once unsought
    Because you "scorned to seek"?

  Do you not fear the grave reproof
    In good Creed Haymond's eye?
  Will Stephen Gage not stand aloof
    And pass you coldly by?

  O, fear you not that Vrooman's lich
    Will rise from earth and point
  At you a scornful finger which
    May lack, perchance, a joint?

  Go, Stanford, where the violets grow,
    And join their modest train.
  Await the work of William Stow
    And be surprised again.