On Monday Night I Closed My Door, And Thought You Were Not As Heretofore, And Little Cared If We Met No More. I Seemed On Tuesday Night To Trace Something Beyond Mere Commonplace In Your Ideas, And Heart, And Face. On Wednesday I Did Not Opine Your Life Would Ever Be One With Mine, Though If It Were We Should Well Combine. On Thursday Noon I Liked You Well, And Fondly Felt That We Must Dwell Not Far Apart, Whatever Befell. On Friday It Was With A Thrill In Gazing Towards Your Distant Vill I Owned You Were My Dear One Still. I Saw You Wholly To My Mind On Saturday Even One Who Shrined All That Was Best Of Womankind. As Wing-Clipt Sea-Gull For The Sea On Sunday Night I Longed For Thee, Without Whom Life Were Waste To Me!