(Who hitches laundering articles to the curtain string and pastes them on the pane.) Lady, thou that livest Just across the way, If a hang thou givest What the people say, If a cuss thou carest What a poet thinks- Hearken, if thou darest, Most immodest minx! Though thy gloves thou tiest, To the curtain string, Though the things thou driest Gird me while I sing, Hankies and inventions Of the lacy tribe- Things I may not mention, Let alone describe. These I mutely stand for Though the sight offend, THIS I reprimand for; Take it from a friend: Cease to pin thy tresses To the window sill, Or I'll tell the presses- Honestly, I will.