She, feeling the poet’s creative glow,/
wanted to read more of his words’ flow./

“Now” (he thought to himself)/
“if only she’d take me/
and not just my poetry/
off the shelf,/

and turn the pages there/
and open up and bare/
my soul to her view./
That’s what I’d like her to do.”

But she, instead,/
was more prompted/
to refer him on/
to another one./

Which always struck the poet as strange/
that desired women should arrange/
for their friends a proposed match,/
when they, themselves, were the hoped-for catch.