Unless I take like Quakers thees and thous, And break this bucking English into rhyme, How will I tell you that which only vows Exceed, because they recognize no time? My good-enough, everyday, bronco tongue, As everybody knows, will do for day; High-talking’s hard on a work-a-day lung, That has to eat the dirt man eats for pay. But after nightfall, when the day slows down, I’ll study Greek and Latin rhetorick, While you take off your cotton dress, and gown Yourself in bedsheets, and each night I’ll pick Some new old Roman speech to hobble me, For else I’d naught but babble love to thee.