To G. C. (July 12, 1886)

They say our president has stuck
Above his good wife's door
The sign provocative of luck--
A horseshoe--nothing more.

Be hushed, O party hates, the while
That emblem lingers there,
And thou, dear fates, propitious smile
Upon the wedded pair.

I've tried the horseshoe's weird intent
And felt its potent joy--
God bless you, Mr. President,
And may it be a boy.