My tangoing seemed to delight her; <br />With me it was love at first sight. <br />I mentioned That I was a writer: <br />She asked me: "What is it you write?" <br />"Oh, only best-sellers," I told her. <br />Their titles? . . . She shook her blonde head; <br />The atmosphere seemed to grow colder: <br />Not one of my books had she read. <br /> <br />Oh, she was a beauty ensnaring, <br />And I was an author of note; <br />But little I saw she'd be caring <br />If never a novel I wrote. <br />Alas for the caprice of Cupid! <br />Alack for the phantom of Fame! <br />I thought her just homely and stupid: <br />She didn't know even my name. <br /> <br />I saw her a score of years after; <br />She gushed as I took off my hat; <br />But inwardly loud was my laughter, <br />For she was enormously fat. <br />Thank heaven I'd not made that error; <br />I saw Love drive off in a hearse; <br />But I too retreated in terror . . . <br />She started to quote me my verse.<br /><br />Robert William Service<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/vanity-2/
