Show The Woman of It By HELEN ROWLAND Copyright 1916 by the Press Publishing Publishing Publishing Pub Pub- lishing Co The New York Evening World A CONFESSION IN VERSE LIBRE The other night it was raining And HE didn't call Nor even ring me on the telephone telephone tele tele- phone And I said Oh well Oh well Oh VERY well And took off the ethereal green frock with the tight belt And the steel relic of the Inquisition with the pink s strings ings And BREATHED ecstatically And kicked off oft the narrow slippers with the pointed toes that pinch And the dinky high heels that send little pains up ones one's spine And put on a nice warm woolly kimono of the vintage of 1914 And an old pair of sandals that flopped deliciously I And pulled out all the hairpins that were digging trenches in my brain And removed the rose-colored rose shade shade- from the And replaced It with a a. grand big ugly GREEN one And put away the copy of ot Rabin Rabin- Tagore And the poems of ot Rupert Brooke we were going to read together And took tool out the latest number of Sloppy Stories And a brand new copy of Frocks and Frills and a box of ot chocolates I and salted almonds and caramels like chewing gum And a jar of candied ginger and some sweet pickles And things And things And lay there on the divan an Island of Delight completely surrounded surrounded sur rounded by pillows For two luxurious HEA HEAVENLY Y hours Then HE called up And said Im SO sorry dear I simply COULDN'T get away from tram the the Directors Meeting Or the Funeral Funeral or or whatever It Is they usually say Did you worry about me VERY much And I answered vered In my sweetest telephone voice Oh SO much darling every darling every minute min mba ute of the time But I LIED So when we are married I am going to be noble and sweet and unselfish And persuade him NOT to give up his clubs for ME Dear Boy Because being a Vision and an Angel and an Ideal Is perfectly lovely But standing on a pedestal and keeping your halo on straight for three hundred and sixty five consecutive consecutive tive evenings in the year Is a life liCe sentence at hard labor And I have KNOWN the Perfect Perfect- End Day |