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diff --git a/36150-h/36150-h.htm b/36150-h/36150-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1af3aa4 --- /dev/null +++ b/36150-h/36150-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4424 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<!-- $Id: header.txt 236 2009-12-07 18:57:00Z vlsimpson $ --> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Hoosier Lyrics, by Eugene Field. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + +p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + +hr {width: 33%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + +table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + +.pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} + +.center {text-align: center;} +.right {text-align: right;} +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + +.big {font-size: 125%;} +.huge {font-size: 150%;} +.giant {font-size: 175%;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hoosier Lyrics, by Eugene Field + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Hoosier Lyrics + +Author: Eugene Field + +Release Date: May 18, 2011 [EBook #36150] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOOSIER LYRICS *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David E. Brown, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + + + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/frontis.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="giant">HOOSIER<br/> +LYRICS</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p class="center">BY</p> +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">EUGENE FIELD</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p class="center">AUTHOR OF</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="big">THE CLINK OF THE ICE, JOHN SMITH,<br/> +U. S. A., IN WINK-A-WAY-LAND, ETC.</span></p> + +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/002.png" alt="" /></div> +<p class="center">M. A. DONOHUE & COMPANY</p> + +<p class="center">CHICAGO, ILL.</p> + +<p> </p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">SELECTED WORKS <i>of</i><br/> +EUGENE FIELD</span></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Uniform with this volume</i></p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +<p class="big">The Clink of the Ice<br /> +Hoosier Lyrics<br /> +In Wink-a-Way Land<br /> +John Smith, U. S. A.</p></td></tr></table> + +<p class="center"><i>Four volumes, boxed, $3.00</i><br/> +<i>Single volumes, 75 cents, postpaid</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="big">M. A. DONOHUE & CO.</span><br/> +701-727 S. DEARBORN ST. CHICAGO</p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center">Copyright, 1905<br/> +M. A. Donohue & Co.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">INTRODUCTION.</span></p> +<p> </p> + + +<p>From whatever point of view the character of Eugene Field is seen, +genius—rare and quaint presents itself in childlike simplicity. That he +was a poet of keen perception, of rare discrimination, all will admit. +He was a humorist as delicate and fanciful as Artemus Ward, Mark Twain, +Bill Nye, James Whitcomb Riley, Opie Read, or Bret Harte in their +happiest moods. Within him ran a poetic vein, capable of being worked in +any direction, and from which he could, at will, extract that which his +imagination saw and felt most. That he occasionally left the +child-world, in which he longed to linger, to wander among the older +children of men, where intuitively the hungry listener follows him into +his Temple of Mirth, all should rejoice, for those who knew him not, can +while away the moments imbibing the genius of his imagination in the +poetry and prose here presented.</p> + +<p>Though never possessing an intimate acquaintanceship with Field, owing +largely to the disparity in our ages, still there existed a bond of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> +friendliness that renders my good opinion of him in a measure +trustworthy. Born in the same city, both students in the same college, +engaged at various times in newspaper work both in St. Louis and +Chicago, residents of the same ward, with many mutual friends, it is not +surprising that I am able to say of him that "the world is better off +that he lived, not in gold and silver or precious jewels, but in the +bestowal of priceless truths, of which the possessor of this book +becomes a benefactor of no mean share of his estate."</p> + +<p>Every lover of Field, whether of the songs of childhood or the poems +that lend mirth to the out-pouring of his poetic nature, will welcome +this unique collection of his choicest wit and humor.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Charles Walter</span> Brown.<br /></p> + +<p>Chicago, January, 1905.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p class="right"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">CONTENTS.</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> </td><td align="right"><small>PAGE.</small></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Hoosier Lyrics Paraphrased</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Gettin' On</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Minnie Lee</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Answer to Minnie Lee</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Lizzie</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Our Lady of the Mine</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Penn-Yan Bill</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Ed</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +How Salty Win Out</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +His Queen</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Answer to His Queen</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Alaskan Balladry—Skans in Love</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +The Biggest Fish</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Bonnie Jim Campbell</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Lyman, Frederick and Jim</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +A Wail</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Clendenin's Lament</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +On the Wedding of G. C.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +To G. C.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +To Dr. F. W. R.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Horace's Ode to "Lydia" Roche</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_54">54</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +A Paraphrase, Circa 1715</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +A Paraphrase, Ostensibly by Dr. I. W.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Horace I., 27</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Heine's "Widow or Daughter"</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Horace II., 20</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Horace's Spring Poem, Odes I., 4</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_62">62</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Horace to Ligurine, Odes IV., 10</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_64">64</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Horace on His Muscle, Epode VI.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Horace to Maecenas, Odes III., 29</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_66">66</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Horace in Love Again, Epode XI.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +"Good-By—God Bless You!"</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_70">70</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Horace, Epode XIV.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Horace I., 23</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +A Paraphrase</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +A Paraphrase by Chaucer</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_76">76</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Horace I., 5</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Horace I., 20</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Envoy</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Horace II., 7</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Horace I., 11</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Horace I., 13</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Horace IV., 1</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Horace to His Patron</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +The "Ars Poetica" of Horace—XVIII. </td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Horace I., 34</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_88">88</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Horace I., 33</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +The "Ars Poetica" of Horace I.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +The Great Journalist in Spain</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Reid, the Candidate</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +A Valentine</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Kissing-Time</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_98">98</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +The Fifth of July</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Picnic-Time</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +The Romance of a Watch</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Our Baby</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> + +The Color that Suits Me Best</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_106">106</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +How to "Fill"</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_108">108</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Politics in 1888</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +The Baseball Score</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Chicago Newspaper Life</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +The Mighty West</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_114">114</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +April</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Report of the Baseball Game</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_118">118</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +The Rose</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Kansas City vs. Detroit</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Me and Bilkammle</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_122">122</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +To the Detroit Baseball Club</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_124">124</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +A Ballad of Ancient Oaths</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +An Old Song Revised</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +The Grateful Patient</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_130">130</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +The Beginning and the End</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_131">131</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Clare Market</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Uncle Ephraim</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_135">135</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Thirty-Nine</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Horace I., 18</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Three Rineland Drinking Songs</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_143">143</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +The Three Tailors</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Morning Hymn</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Doctors</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +Ben Apfelgarten</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +In Holland</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_158">158</a></td></tr></table> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">HOOSIER LYRICS PARAPHRASED.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +We've come from Indiany, five hundred miles or more,<br /> +Supposin' we wuz goin' to get the nominashin, shore;<br /> +For Col. New assured us (in that noospaper o' his)<br /> +That we cud hev the airth, if we'd only tend to biz.<br /> +But here we've been a-slavin' more like bosses than like men<br /> +To diskiver that the people do not hanker arter Ben;<br /> +It <i>is</i> fur Jeems G. Blaine an' <i>not</i> for Harrison they shout—<br /> +And the gobble-uns 'el git us<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;">Ef we</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Don't</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;">Watch</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">Out!</span> +</td></tr></table> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +When I think of the fate that is waiting for Ben,<br /> +I pine for the peace of my childhood again;<br /> +I wish in my sorrow I could strip to the soul<br /> +And hop off once more in the old swimmin' hole!</td></tr></table> + + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +The world is full of roses, and the roses full of dew<br /> +(Which is another word for soup) that drips for me and you.</td></tr></table> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +"Little Benjy! Little Benjy!" chirps the robin in the tree;<br /> +"Little Benjy!" sighs the clover, "Little Benjy!" moans the bee;<br /> +"Little Benjy! Little Benjy!" murmurs John C. New,<br /> +A-stroking down the whiskers which the winds have whistled through.</td></tr></table> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Looks jest like his grampa, who's dead these many years—<br /> +He wears the hat his grampa wore, pulled down below his ears;<br /> +We'd like to have him four years more, but if he cannot stay—<br /> +Nothin' to say, good people; nothin' at all to say!</td></tr></table> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +There, little Ben, don't cry!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They have busted your boom, I know;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And the second term</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For which you squirm</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Has gone where good niggers go!</span><br /> +But Blaine is safe, and the goose hangs high—<br /> +There, little Ben, don't cry!</td></tr></table> + + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> + +<tr><td> +Mabbe we'll git even for this unexpected shock,<br /> +When the frost is on the pumpkin and the fodder's in the shock!</td></tr></table> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Oh, the newspaper man! He works for paw;<br /> +He's the liveliest critter 'at ever you saw;<br /> +With whiskers 'at reach f'om his eyes to his throat.<br /> +He knows how to wheedle and rivet a vote;<br /> +He wunst wuz a consul 'way over the sea—<br /> +But never again a consul he'll be!<br /> +He come back f'om Lon'on one mornin' in May—<br /> +He come back for bizness, an' here he will stay—<br /> +Ain't he a awful slick newspaper man?<br /> +A newspaper, newspaper, newspaper man!</td></tr></table> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +You kin talk about yer cities where the politicians meet—<br /> +You kin talk about yer cities where a decent man gits beat;<br /> +With the general run o' human kind I beg to disagree—<br /> +The little town of Tailholt is good enough f'r me!<br /> +<br /> +Chicago was a pleasant town in eighteen-eighty-eight,<br /> +And I have lived in Washington long time in splendid state;<br /> +But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> all the present prospects are that after ninety-three<br /> +The little town o' Tailholt 'll be good enough f'r me!</td></tr></table> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +"I wunst lived in Indiany," said a consul, gaunt and grim,<br /> +As most of us Blaine delegates wuz kind o' guyin' him;<br /> +"I wunst lived in Indiany, and my views wuz widely read,<br /> +Fur I run a daily paper w'ich 'Lije Halford edited;<br /> +But since I've been away f'm home, my paper (seems to me)<br /> +Ain't nearly such a inflooence ez wot it used to be;<br /> +So, havin' done with consulin', I'm goin' to make a break<br /> +Towards making of a paper like the one I used to make."</td></tr></table> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Think, if you kin, of his term mos' through,<br /> +An' that ol' man wantin' a secon' term, too;<br /> +Picture him bendin' over the form<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of his consul-gineril, stanch an' grim,</span><br /> +Who has stood the brunt of that jimblain storm—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' that ol' man jest wrapt up in him!</span><br /> +An' the consul-gineril, with eyes all bleared<br /> +An' a haunted look in his ashen beard,<br /> +Kind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> o' gaspin' a feeble way—<br /> +But soothed to hear the ol' man say<br /> +In a meaning tone (as one well may<br /> +When words are handy and ——'s to pay):<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Good-by, John; take care of yo'<i>self</i>!"</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">GETTIN' ON.</span></p> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +When I wuz somewhat younger,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I wuz reckoned purty gay—</span><br /> +I had my fling at everything<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In a rollickin', coltish way,</span><br /> +But times have strangely altered<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Since sixty years ago—</span><br /> +This age of steam an' things don't seem<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like the age I used to know,</span><br /> +Your modern innovations<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Don't suit me, I confess,</span><br /> +As did the ways of the good ol' days—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But I'm gettin' on, I guess.</span><br /> +<br /> +I set on the piazza<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' hitch around with the sun—</span><br /> +Sometimes, mayhap, I take a nap,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Waitin' till school is done,</span><br /> +An' then I tell the children<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The things I done in youth,</span><br /> +An' near as I can (as a venerable man)<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I stick to the honest truth!</span><br /> +But the looks of them 'at listen<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Seems sometimes to express</span><br /> +The remote idee that I'm gone—you see!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' I am gettin' on, I guess.</span><br /> +<br /> +I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> get up in the mornin',<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' nothin' else to do,</span><br /> +Before the rest are up and dressed<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I read the papers through;</span><br /> +I hang 'round with the women<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All day an' hear 'em talk,</span><br /> +An' while they sew or knit I show<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The baby how to walk;</span><br /> +An' somehow, I feel sorry<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When they put away his dress</span><br /> +An' cut his curls ('cause they're like a girl's)—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'm gettin' on, I guess!</span><br /> +<br /> +Sometimes, with twilight round me,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I see (or seem to see)</span><br /> +A distant shore where friends of yore<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Linger and watch for me;</span><br /> +Sometimes I've heered 'em callin'<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So tenderlike 'nd low</span><br /> +That it almost seemed like a dream I dreamed,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or an echo of long ago;</span><br /> +An' sometimes on my forehead<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There falls a soft caress,</span><br /> +Or the touch of a hand—you understand—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'm gettin' on, I guess.</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">MINNIE LEE.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<p>Writing from an Indiana town a young woman asks: "Is the enclosed poem +worth anything?"</p> + +<p>We find that the poem is as follows:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +She has left us, our own darling—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And we never more shall see</span><br /> +Here on earth our dearly loved one—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">God has taken Minnie Lee.</span><br /> +<br /> +Her heart was full of goodness<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And her face was fair to see</span><br /> +And her life was full of beauty—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How we miss our Minnie Lee!</span><br /> +<br /> +But her work on earth is over<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And her spirit now is free</span><br /> +She has gone to live in heaven—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shall we weep for Minnie Lee?</span><br /> +<br /> +Would we call our angel darling<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Back again across the sea?</span><br /> +No! but sometime up in heaven<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We will meet loved Minnie Lee.</span></td></tr></table> + + +<p>To<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> the question as to whether this poem is worth anything we chose to +answer in verse as follows:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Sweet poetess, your poetry<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is bad as bad can be,</span><br /> +And yet we heartily deplore<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The death of Minnie Lee.</span><br /> +<br /> +It would have pleased us better<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If, in His wisdom, He</span><br /> +Had taken you, sweet poetess,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Instead of Minnie Lee.</span><br /> +<br /> +Your turn will come, however,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And swift and sure 'twill be</span><br /> +If you continue sending<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your rhymes on Minnie Lee.</span><br /> +<br /> +From this we hope you will gather<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A dim surmise that we</span><br /> +Don't take much stock in poems<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Concerning Minnie Lee.</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">LIZZIE.</span></p> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +I wonder ef all wimmin air<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like Lizzie is when we go out</span><br /> +To theaters an' concerts where<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is things the papers talk about.</span><br /> +Do other wimmin fret and stew<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like they wuz bein' crucified—</span><br /> +Frettin' a show or a concert through,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With wonderin' ef the baby cried?</span><br /> +<br /> +Now Lizzie knows that gran'ma's there<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To see that everything is right,</span><br /> +Yet Lizzie thinks that gran'ma's care<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ain't good enuf f'r baby, quite;</span><br /> +Yet what am I to answer when<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She kind uv fidgets at my side,</span><br /> +An' every now and then;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"I wonder ef the baby cried?"</span><br /> +<br /> +Seems like she seen two little eyes<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A-pinin' f'r their mother's smile—</span><br /> +Seems like she heern the pleadin' cries<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Uv one she thinks uv all the while;</span><br /> +An'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> she's sorry that she come,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'An' though she allus tries to hide</span><br /> +The truth, she'd ruther stay to hum<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Than wonder ef the baby cried.</span><br /> +<br /> +Yes, wimmin folks is all alike—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By Lizzie you kin jedge the rest.</span><br /> +There never was a little tyke,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But that his mother loved him best,</span><br /> +And nex' to bein' what I be—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The husband of my gentle bride—</span><br /> +I'd wisht I wuz that croodlin' wee,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With Lizzie wonderin' ef I cried.</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">OUR LADY OF THE MINE.</span></p> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +The Blue Horizon wuz a mine us fellers all thought well uv,<br /> +And there befell the episode I now perpose to tell uv;<br /> +'Twuz in the year of sixty-nine—somewhere along in summer—<br /> +There hove in sight one afternoon a new and curious comer;<br /> +His name wuz Silas Pettibone—an artist by perfession,<br /> +With a kit of tools and a big mustache and a pipe in his possession;<br /> +He told us, by our leave, he'd kind uv like to make some sketches<br /> +Uv the snowy peaks, 'nd the foamin' crick, 'nd the distant mountain stretches;<br /> +"You're welkim, sir," sez we, although this scenery dodge seemed to us<br /> +A waste uv time where scenery wuz already sooper-<i>floo</i>-us.<br /> +<br /> +All through the summer Pettibone kep' busy at his sketchin'—<br /> +At daybreak, off for Eagle Pass, and home at nightfall, fetchin'<br /> +That<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> everlastin' book uv his with spider lines all through it—<br /> +Three-Fingered Hoover used to say there warn't no meanin' to it—<br /> +"God durn a man," sez he to him, "whose shif'less hand is sot at<br /> +A-drawin' hills that's full of quartz that's pinin' to be got at!"<br /> +"Go on," sez Pettibone, "go on, if joshin' gratifies ye,<br /> +But one uv these fine times, I'll show ye sumthin' will surprise ye!"<br /> +The which remark led us to think—although he didn't say it—<br /> +That Pettibone wuz owin' us a gredge 'nd meant to pay it.<br /> +<br /> +One evenin' as we sat around the restauraw de Casey,<br /> +A-singin' songs 'nd tellin' yarns the which wuz sumwhat racy,<br /> +In come that feller Pettibone 'nd sez: "With your permission<br /> +I'd like to put a picture I have made on exhibition."<br /> +He sot the picture on the bar 'nd drew aside its curtain,<br /> +Sayin': "I recken you'll allow as how <i>that's</i> art, f'r certain!"<br /> +And then we looked, with jaws agape, but nary word wuz spoken,<br /> +And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> f'r a likely spell the charm uv silence wuz unbroken—<br /> +Till presently, as in a dream, remarked Three-Fingered Hoover:<br /> +"Onless I am mistaken, this is Pettibone's shef doover!"<br /> +It wuz a face, a human face—a woman's, fair 'nd tender,<br /> +Sot gracefully upon a neck white as a swan's, and slender;<br /> +The hair wuz kind of sunny, 'nd the eyes wuz sort uv dreamy,<br /> +The mouth wuz half a-smilin', 'nd the cheeks wuz soft 'nd creamy;<br /> +It seemed like she wuz lookin' off into the west out yonder,<br /> +And seemed like, while she looked, we saw her eyes grow softer, fonder—<br /> +Like, lookin' off into the west where mountain mists wuz fallin',<br /> +She saw the face she longed to see and heerd his voice a-callin';<br /> +"Hooray!" we cried; "a woman in the camp uv Blue Horizon—<br /> +Step right up, Colonel Pettibone, 'nd nominate your pizen!"<br /> +<br /> +A curious situation—one deservin' uv your pity—<br /> +No human, livin' female thing this side of Denver City!<br /> +But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> jest a lot uv husky men that lived on sand 'nd bitters—<br /> +Do you wonder that that woman's face consoled the lonesome critters?<br /> +And not a one but what it served in some way to remind him<br /> +Of a mother or a sister or a sweetheart left behind him—<br /> +And some looked back on happier days and saw the old-time faces<br /> +And heerd the dear familiar sounds in old familiar places—<br /> +A gracious touch of home—"Look here," sez Hoover, "ever'body<br /> +Quit thinkin' 'nd perceed at oncet to name his favorite toddy!"<br /> +<br /> +It wuzn't long afore the news had spread the country over,<br /> +And miners come a-flockin' in like honey bees to clover;<br /> +It kind uv did 'em good they said, to feast their hungry eyes on<br /> +That picture uv Our Lady in the camp uv Blue Horizon.<br /> +But one mean cuss from Nigger Crick passed criticisms on 'er—<br /> +Leastwise we overheerd him call her Pettibone's madonner,<br /> +The which we did not take to be respectful to a lady—<br /> +So<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> we hung him in a quiet spot that wuz cool 'nd dry 'nd shady;<br /> +Which same might not have been good law, but it <i>wuz</i> the right maneuver<br /> +To give the critics due respect for Pettibone's shef doover.<br /> +<br /> +Gone is the camp—yes, years ago, the Blue Horizon busted,<br /> +And every mother's son uv us got up one day 'nd dusted,<br /> +While Pettibone perceeded east with wealth in his possession<br /> +And went to Yurrup, as I heerd, to study his perfession;<br /> +So, like as not, you'll find him now a-paintin' heads 'nd faces<br /> +At Venus, Billy Florence and the like I-talyun places—<br /> +But no such face he'll paint again as at old Blue Horizon,<br /> +For I'll allow no sweeter face no human soul sot eyes on;<br /> +And when the critics talk so grand uv Paris 'nd the loover,<br /> +I say: "Oh, but you orter seen the Pettibone shef doover!"</td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">PENN-YAN BILL.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td class="center">I.</td></tr> + +<tr><td> +In gallus old Kentucky, where the grass is very blue,<br /> +Where the liquor is the smoothest and the girls are fair and true,<br /> +Where the crop of he-gawd gentlemen is full of heart and sand,<br /> +And the stock of four-time winners is the finest in the land;<br /> +Where the democratic party in bourbon hardihood<br /> +For more than half a century unterrified has stood,<br /> +Where nod the black-eyed Susans to the prattle of the rill—<br /> +There—there befell the wooing of Penn-Yan Bill.</td></tr> + +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="center">II.</td></tr> + +<tr><td> +Down yonder in the cottage that is nestling in the shade<br /> +Of the walnut trees that seem to love that quiet little glade<br /> +Abides a pretty maiden of the bonny name of Sue—<br /> +As pretty as the black-eyed flow'rs and quite as modest, too;<br /> +And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> lovers came there by the score, of every age and kind,<br /> +But not a one (the story goes) was quite to Susie's mind.<br /> +Their sighs, their protestations, and their pleadings made her ill—<br /> +Till at once upon the scene hove Penn-Yan Bill.</td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="center">III.</td></tr> + +<tr><td> +He came from old Montana and he rode a broncho mare,<br /> +He had a rather howd'y'do and rough-and-tumble air;<br /> +His trousers were of buckskin and his coat of furry stuff—<br /> +His hat was drab of color and its brim was wide enough;<br /> +Upon each leg a stalwart boot reached just above the knee,<br /> +And in the belt about his waist his weepons carried he;<br /> +A rather strapping lover for our little Susie—still,<br /> +<i>She</i> was <i>his</i> choice and <i>he</i> was <i>hers</i>, was Penn-Yan Bill.</td></tr> + +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="center">IV.</td></tr> + +<tr><td> +We wonder that the ivy seeks out the oaken tree,<br /> +And twines her tendrils round him, though scarred and gnarled he be;<br /> +We<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> wonder that a gentle girl, unused to worldly cares,<br /> +Should choose a man whose life has been a constant scrap with bears;<br /> +Ah, 'tis the nature of the vine, and of the maiden, too—<br /> +So when the bold Montana boy came from his lair to woo,<br /> +The fair Kentucky blossom felt all her heartstrings thrill<br /> +Responsive to the purring of Penn-Yan Bill.</td></tr> + +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="center">V.</td></tr> + +<tr><td> +He told her of his cabin in the mountains far away,<br /> +Of the catamount that howls by night, the wolf that yawps by day;<br /> +He told her of the grizzly with the automatic jaw,<br /> +He told her of the Injun who devours his victims raw;<br /> +Of the jayhawk with his tawdry crest and whiskers in his throat,<br /> +Of the great gosh-awful sarpent and the Rocky mountain goat.<br /> +A book as big as Shakespeare's or as Webster's you could fill<br /> +With the yarns that emanated from Penn-Yan Bill!</td></tr> + + +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="center">VI.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></td></tr> + +<tr><td> +Lo, as these mighty prodigies the westerner relates,<br /> +Her pretty mouth falls wide agape—her eyes get big as plates;<br /> +And when he speaks of varmints that in the Rockies grow<br /> +She shudders and she clings to him and timidly cries "Oh!"<br /> +And then says he: "Dear Susie, I'll tell you what to do—<br /> +You be my wife, and none of these 'ere things dare pester you!"<br /> +And she? She answers, clinging close and trembling yet: "I will."<br /> +And then he gives her one big kiss, does Penn-Yan Bill.</td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="center">VII.</td></tr> + +<tr><td> +Avaunt, ye poet lovers, with your wishywashy lays!<br /> +Avaunt, ye solemn pedants, with your musty, bookish ways!<br /> +Avaunt, ye smurking dandies who air your etiquette<br /> +Upon the gold your fathers worked so long and hard to get!<br /> +How empty is your nothingness beside the sturdy tales<br /> +Which mountaineers delight to tell of border hills and vales—<br /> +Of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> snaix that crawl, of beasts that yowl, of birds that flap and trill<br /> +In the wild egregious altitude of Penn-Yan Bill.</td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="center">VIII.</td></tr> + +<tr><td> +Why, over all these mountain peaks his honest feet have trod—<br /> +So high above the rest of us he seemed to walk with God;<br /> +He's breathed the breath of heaven, as it floated, pure and free,<br /> +From the everlasting snow-caps to the mighty western sea;<br /> +And he's heard that awful silence which thunders in the ear:<br /> +"There is a great Jehovah, and His biding place is here!"<br /> +These—these solemn voices and these the sights that thrill<br /> +In the far-away Montana of Penn-Yan Bill.</td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="center">IX.</td></tr> + +<tr><td> +Of course she had to love him, for it was her nature to;<br /> +And she'll wed him in the summer, if all we hear be true.<br /> +The blue grass will be waving in that cool Kentucky glade<br /> +Where the black-eyed Susans cluster in the pleasant walnut shade—<br /> +Where<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> the doves make mournful music and the locust trills a song<br /> +To the brook that through the pasture scampers merrily along;<br /> +And speechless pride and rapture ineffable shall fill<br /> +The beatific bosom of Penn-Yan Bill!</td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">ED.</span></p> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Ed was a man that played for keeps, 'nd when he tuk the notion,<br /> +You cudn't stop him any more'n a dam 'ud stop the ocean;<br /> +For when he tackled to a thing 'nd sot his mind plum to it,<br /> +You bet yer boots he done that thing though it broke the bank to do it!<br /> +So all us boys uz knowed him best allowed he wusn't jokin'<br /> +When on a Sunday he remarked uz how he'd gin up smokin'.<br /> +Now this remark, that Ed let fall, fell, ez I say, on Sunday—<br /> +Which is the reason we wuz shocked to see him sail in Monday<br /> +A-puffin' at a snipe that sizzled like a Chinese cracker<br /> +An' smelt fur all the world like rags instead uv like terbacker;<br /> +Recoverin' from our first surprise, us fellows fell to pokin'<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>A heap uv fun at "folks uz said how they had gin up smokin'."<br /> +But Ed—sez he: "I found my work cud not be done without it—<br /> +Jes' try the scheme yourself, my friends, ef any uv you doubt it!<br /> +It's hard, I know, upon one's health, but there's a certain beauty<br /> +In makin' sackerfices to the stern demand uv duty!<br /> +So, wholly in a sperrit uv denial 'nd concession<br /> +I mortify the flesh 'nd fur the sake uv my perfession!"</td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">HOW SALTY WIN OUT.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Used to think that luck wuz luck and nuthin' else but luck—<br /> +It made no diff'rence how or when or where or why it struck;<br /> +But sev'ral years ago I changt my mind and now proclaim<br /> +That luck's a kind uv science—same as any other game;<br /> +It happened out in Denver in the spring uv '80, when<br /> +Salty teched a humpback an' win out ten.<br /> +<br /> +Salty wuz a printer in the good ol' Tribune days,<br /> +An', natural-like, he fell in love with the good ol' Tribune ways;<br /> +So, every Sunday evenin' he would sit into the game<br /> +Which in this crowd uv thoroughbreds I think I need not name;<br /> +An' there he'd sit until he rose, an', when he rose he wore<br /> +Invariably less wealth about his person than before.<br /> +<br /> +But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> once there come a powerful change; one sollum Sunday night<br /> +Occurred the tidle wave what put ol' Salty out o' sight!<br /> +He win on deuce an' ace an' jack—he win on king an' queen—<br /> +Cliff Bill allowed the like uv how he win wuz never seen!<br /> +An' how he done it wuz revealed to all us fellers when<br /> +He said he teched a humpback to win out ten.<br /> +<br /> +There must be somethin' in it for he never win afore,<br /> +An' when he tole the crowd about the humpback, how they swore!<br /> +For every sport allows it is a losin' game to buck<br /> +Agin the science of a man who's teched a hump f'r luck;<br /> +An' there is no denyin' luck was nowhere in it when<br /> +Salty teched a humpback an' win out ten.<br /> +<br /> +I've had queer dreams an' seen queer things, an' allus tried to do<br /> +The thing that luck apparrently intended f'r me to;<br /> +Cats, funerils, cripples, beggars have I treated with regard,<br /> +An' charity subscriptions have hit me powerful hard;<br /> +But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> what's the use uv talkin'? I say, an' say again;<br /> +You've got to tech a humpback to win out ten!<br /> +<br /> +So, though I used to think that luck wuz lucky, I'll allow<br /> +That luck, for luck, agin a hump ain't nowhere in it now!<br /> +An' though I can't explain the whys an' wherefores, I maintain<br /> +There must be somethin' in it when the tip's so straight an' plain;<br /> +For I wuz there an' seen it, an' got full with Salty when<br /> +Salty teched a humpback and win out ten!</td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">HIS QUEEN.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<p>Our gifted and genial friend, Mr. William J. Florence, the comedian, +takes to verses as naturally as a canvas-back duck takes to celery +sauce. As a balladist he has few equals and no superiors, and when it +comes to weaving compliments to the gentler sex he is without a peer. We +find in the New York Mirror the latest verses from Mr. Florence's pen; +they are entitled "Pasadene," and the first stanza flows in this wise:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +I've journeyed East, I've journeyed West,<br /> +And fair Italia's fields I've seen;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">But I declare</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">None can compare</span><br /> +With thee, my rose-crowned Pasadene.</td></tr></table> + +<p>Following this introduction come five stanzas heaping even more glowing +compliments upon this Miss Pasadene—whoever she may be—we know her +not. They are handsome compliments, beautifully phrased, yet they give +us the heartache, for we know Mrs. Florence, and it grieves us to see +her husband dribbling away his superb intellect in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> penning verses to +other women. Yet we think we understand it all; these poets have a +pretty way of hymning the virtues of their wives under divers aliases. +So, catching the afflatus of the genial actor-poet's muse, we would +answer:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Come, now, who is this Pasadene<br /> +That such a whirl of praises warrant?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And is a rose</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Her only clo'es?</span><br /> +Oh, fie upon you, Billy Florence!<br /> +<br /> +Ah, no; that's your poetic way<br /> +Of turning loose your rhythmic torrents—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">This Pasadene</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Is not your queen—</span><br /> +We know you know we know it, Florence!<br /> +<br /> +So sing your songs of women folks—<br /> +We'll read without the least abhorrence,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Because we know</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Through weal and woe</span><br /> +Your queen is Mrs. Billy Florence!</td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">ALASKAN BALLADRY.—III.</span></p> + +<p class="center">(Skans in Love.)</p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +I am like the wretched seal<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wounded by a barbed device—</span><br /> +Helpless fellow! how I bellow,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Floundering on the jagged ice!</span><br /> +<br /> +Sitka's beauty is the steel<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That hath wrought this piteous woe:</span><br /> +Yet would I rather die<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Than recover from the blow!</span><br /> +<br /> +Still I'd rather live than die,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Grievous though my torment be;</span><br /> +Smite away, but, I pray,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Smite no victim else than me!</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE BIGGEST FISH.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +When, in the halcyon days of old, I was a little tyke,<br /> +I used to fish in pickerel ponds for minnows and the like;<br /> +And, oh, the bitter sadness with which my soul was fraught<br /> +When I rambled home at nightfall with the puny string I'd caught!<br /> +And, oh, the indignation and the valor I'd display<br /> +When I claimed that all the biggest fish I'd caught had got away!<br /> +<br /> +Sometimes it was the rusty hooks, sometimes the fragile lines,<br /> +And many times the treacherous reeds were actually to blame.<br /> +I kept right on at losing all the monsters just the same—<br /> +I never lost a <i>little</i> fish—yes, I am free to say<br /> +It always was the <i>biggest</i> fish I caught that got away.<br /> +And so it was, when, later on, I felt ambition pass<br /> +From callow minnow joys to nobler greed for pike and bass;<br /> +I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> found it quite convenient, when the beauties wouldn't bite<br /> +And I returned all bootless from the watery chase at night,<br /> +To feign a cheery aspect and recount in accents gay<br /> +How the biggest fish that I had caught had somehow got away.<br /> +<br /> +And, really, fish look bigger than they are before they're caught—<br /> +When the pole is bent into a bow and the slender line is taut,<br /> +When a fellow feels his heart rise up like a doughnut in his throat<br /> +And he lunges in a frenzy up and down the leaky boat!<br /> +Oh, you who've been a-fishing will indorse me when I say<br /> +That it always <i>is</i> the biggest fish you catch that gets away!<br /> +<br /> +'Tis even so in other things—yes, in our greedy eyes<br /> +The biggest boon is some elusive, never-captured prize;<br /> +We angle for the honors and the sweets of human life—<br /> +Like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> fishermen we brave the seas that roll in endless strife;<br /> +And then at last, when all is done and we are spent and gray,<br /> +We own the biggest fish we've caught are those that get away.<br /> +<br /> +I would not have it otherwise; 'tis better there should be<br /> +Much bigger fish than I have caught a-swimming in the sea;<br /> +For now some worthier one than I may angle for that game—<br /> +May by his arts entice, entrap, and comprehend the same;<br /> +Which, having done, perchance he'll bless the man who's proud to say<br /> +That the biggest fish he ever caught were those that got away.</td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">BONNIE JIM CAMPBELL: A LEGISLATIVE MEMORY.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Bonnie Jim Campbell rode up the glen,<br /> +But it wasn't to meet the butterine men;<br /> +It wasn't Phil Armour he wanted to see,<br /> +Nor Haines nor Crafts—though their friend was he.<br /> +Jim Campbell was guileless as man could be—<br /> +No fraud in his heart had he;<br /> +'Twas all on account of his character's sake<br /> +That he sought that distant Wisconsin lake.</td></tr> + +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 3em;">* * * * * *</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td> +Bonnie Jim Campbell came riding home,<br /> +And now he sits in the rural gloam;<br /> +A tear steals furtively down his nose<br /> +As salt as the river that yonder flows;<br /> +To the setting sun and the rising moon<br /> +He plaintively warbles the good old tune:<br /> +<br /> +"Of all the drinks that ever were made—<br /> +From sherbet to circus lemonade—<br /> +Not one's so healthy and sweet, I vow,<br /> +As the rich, thick cream of the Elgin cow!<br /> +Oh, that she were here to enliven the scene,<br /> +Right merry would be our hearts, I ween;<br /> +Then,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> then again, Bob Wilbanks and I<br /> +Would take it by turns and milk her dry!<br /> +We would stuff her paunch with the best of hay <br /> +And milk her a hundred times a day!"<br /> +<br /> +'Tis thus that Bonnie Jim Campbell sings—<br /> +A young he-angel with sprouting wings;<br /> +He sings and he prays that Fate'll allow<br /> +Him one more whack at the Elgin cow!</td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">LYMAN, FREDERICK AND JIM.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Lyman and Frederick and Jim, one day,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Set out in a great big ship—</span><br /> +Steamed to the ocean down to the bay<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Out of a New York slip.</span><br /> +"Where are you going and what is your game?"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The people asked to those three.</span><br /> +"Darned, if we know; but all the same<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Happy as larks are we;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And happier still we're going to be!"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Said Lyman</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And Frederick</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And Jim.</span><br /> +<br /> +The people laughed "Aha, oho!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oho, aha!" laughed they;</span><br /> +And while those three went sailing so<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some pirates steered that way.</span><br /> +The pirates they were laughing, too—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The prospect made them glad;</span><br /> +But by the time the job was through<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Each of them pirates bold and bad,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Had been done out of all he had</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">By Lyman</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And Frederick</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And Jim.</span><br /> +<br /> +Days<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> and weeks and months they sped,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Painting that foreign clime</span><br /> +A beautiful, bright vermillion red—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And having a — of a time!</span><br /> +'Twas all so gaudy a lark, it seemed,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As if it could not be,</span><br /> +And some folks thought it a dream they dreamed<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of sailing that foreign sea,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But I'll identify you these three—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Lyman</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And Frederick</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And Jim.</span><br /> +<br /> +Lyman and Frederick are bankers and sich<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Jim is an editor kind;</span><br /> +The first two named are awfully rich<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Jim ain't far behind!</span><br /> +So keep your eyes open and mind your tricks,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or you are like to be</span><br /> +In quite as much of a Tartar fix<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As the pirates that sailed the sea</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And monkeyed with the pardners three,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Lyman</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And Frederick</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And Jim.</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">A WAIL.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +My name is Col. Johncey New,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And by a hoosier's grace</span><br /> +I have congenial work to do<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At 12 St. Helen's place.</span><br /> +I was as happy as a clam<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A-floating with the tide,</span><br /> +Till one day came a cablegram<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To me from t'other side.</span><br /> +<br /> +It was a Macedonian cry<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From Benjy o'er the sea;</span><br /> +"Come hither, Johncey, instantly,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And whoop things up for me!"</span><br /> +I could not turn a callous ear<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Unto that piteous cry;</span><br /> +I packed my grip, and for the pier<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Directly started I.</span><br /> +<br /> +Alas! things are not half so fair<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As four short years ago—</span><br /> +The clouds are gathering everywhere<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And boisterous breezes blow;</span><br /> +My<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> wilted whiskers indicate<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The depth of my disgrace—</span><br /> +Would I were back, enthroned in state,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At 12 St. Helen's place!</span><br /> +<br /> +The saddest words, as I'll allow,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That drop from tongue or pen,</span><br /> +Are these sad words I utter now:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"They can't, shan't, won't have Ben!"</span><br /> +So, with my whiskers in my hands,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My journey I'll retrace,</span><br /> +To wreak revenge on foreign lands<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At 12 St. Helen's place.</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">CLENDENIN'S LAMENT.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +While bridal knots are being tied<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And bridal meats are being basted,</span><br /> +I shiver in the cold outside<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And pine for joys I've never tasted.</span><br /> +<br /> +Oh, what's a nomination worth,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When you have labored months to get it</span><br /> +If, all at once, with heartless mirth,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The cruel senator's upset it?</span><br /> +<br /> +Fate weaves me such a toilsome way,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My modest wisdom may not ken it—</span><br /> +But, all the same, a plague I say<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon that stingy, hostile senate!</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">ON THE WEDDING OF G. C.</span></p> + +<p class="center">(June 2, 1886.)</p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Oh, hand me down my spike tail coat<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And reef my waistband in,</span><br /> +And tie this necktie round my throat<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And fix my bosom pin;</span><br /> +I feel so weak and flustered like,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I don't know what I say—</span><br /> +For I am to be wedded to-day, Dan'l,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'm to be wedded to-day!</span><br /> +<br /> +Put double sentries at the doors<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And pull the curtains down,</span><br /> +And tell the democratic bores<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That I am out of town;</span><br /> +It's funny folks haint decency<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Enough to stay away,</span><br /> +When I'm to be wedded to-day, Dan'l,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'm to be wedded to-day!</span><br /> +<br /> +The bride, you say, is calm and cool<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In satin robes of white—</span><br /> +Well, <i>I</i> am stolid, as a rule,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But now I'm flustered quite;</span><br /> +Upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> a surging sea of bliss<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My soul is borne away,</span><br /> +For I'm to be wedded to-day, Dan'l,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'm to be wedded to-day!</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">TO G. C.</span></p> + +<p class="center">(July 12, 1886.)</p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +They say our president has stuck<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Above his good wife's door</span><br /> +The sign provocative of luck—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A horseshoe—nothing more.</span><br /> +<br /> +Be hushed, O party hates, the while<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That emblem lingers there,</span><br /> +And thou, dear fates, propitious smile<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon the wedded pair.</span><br /> +<br /> +I've tried the horseshoe's weird intent<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And felt its potent joy—</span><br /> +God bless you, Mr. President,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And may it be a boy.</span></td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="huge">TO DR. F. W. R.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +If I were rich enough to buy<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A case of wine (though I abhor it),</span><br /> +I'd send a quart of extra dry<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And willingly get trusted for it.</span><br /> +But, lackaday! <i>You</i> know that I'm<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As poor as Job's historic turkey—</span><br /> +In lieu of Mumm, accept this rhyme,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An honest gift though somewhat jerky.</span><br /> +<br /> +This is your silver wedding day—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You didn't mean to let me know it!</span><br /> +And yet your smiles and raiments gay<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Beyond all peradventure show it!</span><br /> +By all you say and do it's clear<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A birdling in your heart is singing,</span><br /> +And everywhere you go you hear<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The old-time bridal bells a-ringing.</span><br /> +<br /> +Ah, well, God grant that these dear chimes<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">May mind you of the sweetness only</span><br /> +Of those far distant, callow times<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When you were Benedick and lonely—</span><br /> +And when an angel blessed your lot—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For angel is your helpmeet, truly—</span><br /> +And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> when, to share the joy she brought,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Came other little angels, duly.</span><br /> +<br /> +So here's a health to you and wife—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Long may you mock the Reaper's warning,</span><br /> +And may the evening of your life<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In rising sons renew the morning;</span><br /> +May happiness and peace and love<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Come with each morrow to caress ye,</span><br /> +And when you're done with earth, above—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">God bless ye, dear old friend—God bless ye!</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE'S ODE TO "LYDIA" ROCHE.</span></p> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">No longer the boys,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With their music and noise,</span><br /> +Demand your election as mayor;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Such a milk-wagon hack</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Has no place on the track</span><br /> +When his rival's a thoroughbred stayer.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With your coarse, shallow wit</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Every rational cit</span><br /> +At last is completely disgusted;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The tool of the rings,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Trusts, barons, and things,</span><br /> +What wonder, I wonder, you're busted!<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As soon as that Yerkes</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Finds out you can't work his</span><br /> +Intrigues for the popular nickel,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With a tear to deceive you</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">He'll drop you and leave you</span><br /> +In your normal condition—a pickle.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Go,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> dodderer, go</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Where the whisker winds blow</span><br /> +And spasms of penitence trouble;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Or flounder and whoop</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In an ocean of soup</span><br /> +Where the pills of adversity bubble.</td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">A PARAPHRASE, CIRCA 1715.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Since Chloe is so monstrous fair,<br /> +With such an eye and such an air,<br /> +What wonder that the world complains<br /> +When she each am'rous suit disdains?<br /> +<br /> +Close to her mother's side she clings<br /> +And mocks the death her folly brings<br /> +To gentle swains that feel the smarts<br /> +Her eyes inflict upon their hearts.<br /> +<br /> +Whilst thus the years of youth go by,<br /> +Shall Colin languish, Strephon die?<br /> +Nay, cruel nymph! come, choose a mate,<br /> +And choose him ere it be too late!</td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">A PARAPHRASE, OSTENSIBLY BY DR. I. W.</span></p> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Why, Mistress Chloe, do you bother<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With prattlings and with vain ado</span><br /> +Your worthy and industrious mother,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Eschewing them that come to woo?</span><br /> +<br /> +Oh, that the awful truth might quicken<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This stern conviction to your breast:</span><br /> +You are no longer now a chicken<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Too young to quit the parent nest.</span><br /> +<br /> +So put aside your froward carriage<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And fix your thoughts, whilst yet there's time,</span><br /> +Upon the righteousness of marriage<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With some such godly man as I'm.</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE I, 27.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +In maudlin spite let Thracians fight<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Above their bowls of liquor,</span><br /> +But such as we, when on a spree,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Should never bawl and bicker!</span><br /> +<br /> +These angry words and clashing swords<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Are quite de trop, I'm thinking;</span><br /> +Brace up, my boys, and hush your noise,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And drown your wrath in drinking.</span><br /> +<br /> +Aha, 'tis fine—this mellow wine<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With which our host would dope us!</span><br /> +Now let us hear what pretty dear<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Entangles him of Opus.</span><br /> +<br /> +I see you blush—nay, comrades, hush!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Come, friend, though they despise you,</span><br /> +Tell me the name of that fair dame—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Perchance I may advise you.</span><br /> +<br /> +O wretched youth! and is it truth<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You love that fickle lady?</span><br /> +I, doting dunce, courted her once,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And she is reckoned shady!</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">HEINE'S "WIDOW OR DAUGHTER."</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Shall I woo the one or the other?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Both attract me—more's the pity!</span><br /> +Pretty is the widowed mother,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the daughter, too, is pretty.</span><br /> +<br /> +When I see that maiden shrinking,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By the gods, I swear I'll get 'er!</span><br /> +But, anon, I fall to thinking<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That the mother'll suit me better!</span><br /> +<br /> +So, like any idiot ass—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hungry for the fragrant fodder,</span><br /> +Placed between two bales of grass,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lo, I doubt, delay, and dodder!</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE II, 20.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Maecenas, I propose to fly<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To realms beyond these human portals;</span><br /> +No common things shall be my wings,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But such as sprout upon immortals.</span><br /> +<br /> +Of lowly birth, once shed of earth,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your Horace, precious (so you've told him),</span><br /> +Shall soar away—no tomb of clay<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor Stygian prison house shall hold him.</span><br /> +<br /> +Upon my skin feathers begin<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To warn the songster of his fleeting;</span><br /> +But never mind—I leave behind<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Songs all the world shall keep repeating.</span><br /> +<br /> +Lo, Boston girls with corkscrew curls,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And husky westerns, wild and woolly,</span><br /> +And southern climes shall vaunt my rhymes—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And all profess to know me fully.</span><br /> +<br /> +Methinks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> the west shall know me best<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And therefore hold my memory dearer,</span><br /> +For by that lake a bard shall make<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My subtle, hidden meanings clearer.</span><br /> +<br /> +So cherished, I shall never die—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pray, therefore, spare your dolesome praises,</span><br /> +Your elegies and plaintive cries,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For I shall fertilize no daisies!</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE'S SPRING POEM.</span></p> + +<p class="center">(Odes I, 4.)</p> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +The western breeze is springing up, the ships are in the bay,<br /> +And Spring has brought a happy change as Winter melts away;<br /> +No more in stall or fire the herd or plowman finds delight,<br /> +No longer with the biting frosts the open fields are white.<br /> +<br /> +Our Lady of Lythera now prepares to lead the dance,<br /> +While from above the ruddy moon bestows a friendly glance;<br /> +The nymphs and comely Graces join with Venus and the choir,<br /> +And Vulcan's glowing fancy lightly turns to thoughts of fire.<br /> +<br /> +Now is the time with myrtle green to crown the shining pate,<br /> +And with the early blossoms of the spring to decorate;<br /> +To sacrifice to Faunus—on whose favor we rely—<br /> +A sprightly lamb, mayhap a kid, as he may specify.<br /> +<br /> +Impartially<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> the feet of Death at huts and castles strike—<br /> +The influenza carries off the rich and poor alike;<br /> +O Sestius! though blest you are beyond the common run,<br /> +Life is too short to cherish e'en a distant hope begun.<br /> +<br /> +The Shades and Pluto's mansion follow hard upon la grippe—<br /> +Once there you cannot throw at dice or taste the wine you sip,<br /> +Nor look on Lycidas, whose beauty you commend,<br /> +To whom the girls will presently their courtesies extend.</td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE TO LIGURINE.</span></p> + +<p class="center">(Odes IV, 10.)</p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">O cruel fair,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Whose flowing hair</span><br /> +The envy and the pride of all is,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">As onward roll</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The years, that poll</span><br /> +Will get as bald as a billiard ball is;<br /> +Then shall your skin, now pink and dimply,<br /> +Be tanned to parchment, sear and pimply!<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">When you behold</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Yourself grown old</span><br /> +These words shall speak your spirits moody:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">"Unhappy one!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">What heaps of fun</span><br /> +I've missed by being goody-goody!<br /> +Oh! that I might have felt the hunger<br /> +Of loveless age when I was younger!"</td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE ON HIS MUSCLE.</span></p> + +<p class="center">(Epode VI.)</p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +You (blatant coward that you are!)<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon the helpless vent your spite;</span><br /> +Suppose you ply your trade on me—<br /> +Come, monkey with this bard and see<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How I'll repay your bark with bite!</span><br /> +<br /> +Ay, snarl just once at me, you brute!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I shall hound you far and wide,</span><br /> +As fiercely as through drifted snow<br /> +The shepherd dog pursues what foe<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Skulks on the Spartan mountain side!</span><br /> +<br /> +The chip is on my shoulder, see?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But touch it and I'll raise your fur;</span><br /> +I'm full of business; so beware,<br /> +For, though I'm loaded up for bear,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'm quite as likely to kill a cur!</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE TO MAECENAS.</span></p> + +<p class="center">(Odes III, 29.)</p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Dear noble friend! a virgin cask<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of wine solicits attention—</span><br /> +And roses fair, to deck your hair,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And things too numerous to mention,</span><br /> +So tear yourself awhile away<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From urban turmoil, pride and splendor</span><br /> +And deign to share what humble fare<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And sumptuous fellowship I tender;</span><br /> +The sweet content retirement brings<br /> +Smoothes out the ruffled front of kings.<br /> +<br /> +The evil planets have combined<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To make the weather hot and hotter—</span><br /> +By parboiled streams the shepherd dreams<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Vainly of ice-cream soda-water;</span><br /> +And meanwhile you, defying heat,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With patriotic ardor ponder</span><br /> +On what old Rome essays at home<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And what her heathen do out yonder.</span><br /> +Maecenas, no such vain alarm<br /> +Disturbs the quiet of this farm!<br /> +<br /> +God<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> in his providence observes<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The goal beyond this vale of sorrow,</span><br /> +And smiles at men in pity when<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They seek to penetrate the morrow.</span><br /> +With faith that all is for the best,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Let's bear what burdens are presented,</span><br /> +That we shall say, let come what may,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"We die, as we have lived, contented!</span><br /> +Ours is to-day; God's is the rest—<br /> +He doth ordain who knoweth best!"<br /> +<br /> +Dame Fortune plays me many a prank—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When she is kind, oh! how I go it!</span><br /> +But if, again, she's harsh, why, then<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I am a very proper poet!</span><br /> +When favoring gales bring in my ships,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I hie to Rome and live in clover—</span><br /> +Elsewise, I steer my skiff out here,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And anchor till the storm blows over.</span><br /> +Compulsory virtue is the charm<br /> +Of life upon the Sabine farm!</td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE IN LOVE AGAIN.</span></p> + +<p class="center">(Epode XI.)</p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Dear Pettius, once I reeled off rhyme<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Satiric, sad and tender,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But now my quill</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Has lost its skill</span><br /> +And I am dying in my prime<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through love of female gender!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Nay, do not laugh</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Nor deign to chaff</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your friend with taunts of Lyde</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And other dames</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Who've been my flames—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>This</i> time it's bona-fide!</span><br /> +<br /> +I maunder sadly to and fro—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I who was once so jolly!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">My old time chums</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Gyrate their thumbs</span><br /> +And taunt me, as I sighing go,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With what they term my folly.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I told you once,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Lake a garrulous dunce,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of my all consuming passion,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And I rolled my eyes</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> tragedy wise</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And raved in lovesick fashion.</span><br /> +<br /> +And when I'd aired my woes profound<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You volunteered this warning:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Horace, go light</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">On the bowl to-night—</span><br /> +Ten hours of sleep will bring you round<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All right to-morrow morning!"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Now ten hours sleep</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">May do a heap</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For callow hearts a-patter,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But I tell you, sir,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">This affair du coeur</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of <i>mine</i> is a serious matter!</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">"GOOD-BY—GOD BLESS YOU!"</span></p> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +I like the Anglo-Saxon speech<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With its direct revealings—</span><br /> +It takes a hold and seems to reach<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Way down into your feelings;</span><br /> +That some folk deem it rude, I know,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And therefore they abuse it;</span><br /> +But I have never found it so—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Before all else I choose it.</span><br /> +I don't object that men should air<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Gallic they have paid for—</span><br /> +With "au revoir," "adieu, ma chere"—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For that's what French was made for—</span><br /> +But when a crony takes your hand<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At parting to address you,</span><br /> +He drops all foreign lingo and<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He says: "Good-by—God bless you!"</span><br /> +<br /> +This seems to me a sacred phrase<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With reverence impassioned—</span><br /> +A thing come down from righteous days,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Quaintly but nobly fashioned;</span><br /> +It well becomes an honest face—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A voice that's round and cheerful;</span><br /> +It stays the sturdy in his place<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And soothes the weak and fearful.</span><br /> +Into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> the porches of the ears<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It steals with subtle unction</span><br /> +And in your heart of hearts appears<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To work its gracious function;</span><br /> +And all day long with pleasing song<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It lingers to caress you—</span><br /> +I'm sure no human heart goes wrong<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That's told "Good-by—God bless you!"</span><br /> +<br /> +I love the words—perhaps because,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When I was leaving mother,</span><br /> +Standing at last in solemn pause<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We looked at one another,</span><br /> +And—I saw in mother's eyes<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The love she could not tell me—</span><br /> +A love eternal as the skies,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whatever fate befell me;</span><br /> +She put her arms about my neck<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And soothed the pain of leaving,</span><br /> +And, though her heart was like to break,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She spoke no word of grieving;</span><br /> +She let no tear bedim her eye,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For fear <i>that</i> might distress me,</span><br /> +But, kissing me, she said good-by<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And asked her God to bless me.</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE.</span></p> + +<p class="center">(Epode XIV.)</p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">You ask me, friend,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Why I don't send</span><br /> +The long since due-and-paid-for numbers—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Why, songless, I</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">As drunken lie</span><br /> +Abandoned to Lethæan slumbers.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Long time ago</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">(As well you know)</span><br /> +I started in upon that carmen;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">My work was vain—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">But why complain?</span><br /> +When gods forbid, how helpless are men!<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Some ages back,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The sage Anack</span><br /> +Courted a frisky Samian body,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Singing her praise</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">In metered phrase</span><br /> +As flowing as his bowls of toddy.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">'Till I was hoarse</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Might I discourse</span><br /> +Upon the cruelties of Venus—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">'Twere<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> waste of time</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">As well of rhyme,</span><br /> +For you've been there yourself, Maecenas!<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Perfect your bliss,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">If some fair miss</span><br /> +Love you yourself and <i>not</i> your minæ;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I, fortune's sport,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">All vainly court</span><br /> +The beauteous, polyandrous Phryne!</td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE I, 23.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Chloe, you shun me like a hind<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That, seeking vainly for her mother,</span><br /> +Hears danger in each breath of wind<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And wildly darts this way and t'other.</span><br /> +<br /> +Whether the breezes sway the wood<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or lizards scuttle through the brambles,</span><br /> +She starts, and off, as though pursued,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The foolish, frightened creature scrambles.</span><br /> +<br /> +But, Chloe, you're no infant thing<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That should esteem a man an ogre—</span><br /> +Let go your mother's apron-string<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And pin your faith upon a toga!</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">A PARAPHRASE.</span></p> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +How happens it, my cruel miss,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You're always giving me the mitten?</span><br /> +You seem to have forgotten this:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That you no longer are a kitten!</span><br /> +<br /> +A woman that has reached the years<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of that which people call discretion</span><br /> +Should put aside all childish fears<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And see in courtship no transgression.</span><br /> +<br /> +A mother's solace may be sweet,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But Hymen's tenderness is sweeter,</span><br /> +And though all virile love be meet,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You'll find the poet's love is metre.</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">A PARAPHRASE BY CHAUCER.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Syn that you, Chloe, to your moder sticken,<br /> +Maketh all ye yonge bacheloures full sicken;<br /> +Like as a lyttel deere you been y-hiding<br /> +Whenas come lovers with theyre pityse chiding,<br /> +Sothly it ben faire to give up your moder<br /> +For to beare swete company with some oder;<br /> +Your moder ben well enow so farre shee goeth,<br /> +But that ben not farre enow, God knoweth;<br /> +Wherefore it ben sayed that foolysh ladyes<br /> +That marrye not shall leade an aype in Hayde;<br /> +But all that do with gode men wed full quicklye<br /> +When that they be on dead go to ye seints full sickerly.</td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE I, 5.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +What perfumed, posie-dizened sirrah,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">With smiles for diet,</span><br /> +Clasps you, O fair but faithless Pyrrha,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">On the quiet?</span><br /> +For whom do you bind up your tresses,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">As spun-gold yellow—</span><br /> +Meshes that go with your caresses,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">To snare a fellow?</span><br /> +<br /> +How will he rail at fate capricious,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And curse you duly;</span><br /> +Yet now he deems your wiles delicious—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;"><i>You</i> perfect truly!</span><br /> +Pyrrha, your love's a treacherous ocean—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">He'll soon fall in there!</span><br /> +Then shall I gloat on his commotion,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">For <i>I</i> have been there!</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE I, 20.</span></p> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Than you, O valued friend of mine!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A better patron non est—</span><br /> +Come, quaff my home-made Sabine wine—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You'll find it poor but honest.</span><br /> +<br /> +I put it up that famous day<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You patronized the ballet</span><br /> +And the public cheered you such a way<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As shook your native valley.</span><br /> +<br /> +Cæcuban and the Calean brand<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">May elsewhere claim attention,</span><br /> +But I have none of these on hand—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For reasons I'll not mention.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge"><i>ENVOY.</i></span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +So come! though favors I bestow<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Can not be called extensive,</span><br /> +Who better than my friend should know<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That they're, at least, expensive!</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE II, 7.</span></p> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Pompey, what fortune gives you back<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To the friends and the gods who love you—</span><br /> +Once more you stand in your native land,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With your native sky above you!</span><br /> +Ah, side by side, in years agone,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We've faced tempestuous weather,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And often quaffed</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">The genial draft</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From an amphora together!</span><br /> +<br /> +When honor at Phillippi fell<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A pray to brutal passion,</span><br /> +I regret to say that my feet ran away<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In swift Iambic fashion;</span><br /> +You were no poet-soldier born,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You staid, nor did you wince then—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Mercury came</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">To my help, which same</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Has frequently saved me since then.</span><br /> +<br /> +But now you're back, let's celebrate<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the good old way and classic—</span><br /> +Come,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> let us lard our skins with nard<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And bedew our souls with Massic!</span><br /> +With fillets of green parsley leaves<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our foreheads shall be done up,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And with song shall we</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Protract our spree</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Until the morrow's sun-up.</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE I, 11.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Seek not, Lucome, to know how long you're going to live yet—<br /> +What boons the gods will yet withhold, or what they're going to give yet;<br /> +For Jupiter will have his way, despite how much we worry—<br /> +Some will hang on for many a day and some die in a hurry,<br /> +The wisest thing for you to do is to embark this diem<br /> +Upon a merry escapade with some such bard as I am;<br /> +And while we sport, I'll reel you off such odes as shall surprise ye—<br /> +To-morrow, when the headache comes—well, then I'll satirize ye!</td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE I, 13.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +When, Lydia, you (once fond and true,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But now grown cold and supercilious)</span><br /> +Praise Telly's charms of neck and arms—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Well, by the dog! it makes me bilious!</span><br /> +<br /> +Then, with despite, my cheeks wax white,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My doddering brain gets weak and giddy,</span><br /> +My eyes o'erflow with tears which show<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That passion melts my vitals, Liddy!</span><br /> +<br /> +Deny, false jade, your escapade,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, lo! your wounded shoulders show it!</span><br /> +No manly spark left such a mark—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(Leastwise he surely was no poet!)</span><br /> +<br /> +With savage buss did Telephus<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Abraid your lips, so plump and mellow—</span><br /> +As you would save what Venus gave,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I charge you shun that awkward fellow!</span><br /> +<br /> +And now I say thrice happy they<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That call on Hymen to requite 'em;</span><br /> +For, though love cools, the wedded fools<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Must cleave 'till death doth disunite 'em!</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE IV, 1.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +O Mother Venus, quit, I pray,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your violent assailing;</span><br /> +The arts, forsooth, that fired my youth<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At last are unavailing—</span><br /> +My blood runs cold—I'm getting old<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And all my powers are failing!</span><br /> +<br /> +Speed thou upon thy white swan's wings<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And elsewhere deign to mellow</span><br /> +With my soft arts the anguished hearts<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of swain that writhe and bellow;</span><br /> +And right away, seek out, I pray,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Young Paullus—he's your fellow.</span><br /> +<br /> +You'll find young Paullus passing fate,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Modest, refined, and toney—</span><br /> +Go, now, incite the favored wight!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With Venus for a crony.</span><br /> +He'll outshine all at feast and ball<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And conversazione!</span><br /> +<br /> +Then shall that godlike nose of thine<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With perfumes be requited,</span><br /> +And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> then shall prance in Salian dance<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The girls and boys delighted,</span><br /> +And, while the lute blends with the flute,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shall tender loves be blighted.</span><br /> +<br /> +But as for me—as you can see—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'm getting old and spiteful;</span><br /> +I have no mind to female kind<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That once I deemed delightful—</span><br /> +No more brim up the festive cup<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That sent me home at night full.</span><br /> +<br /> +Why do I falter in my speech,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O cruel Ligurine?</span><br /> +Why do I chase from place to place<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In weather wet and shiny?</span><br /> +Why down my nose forever flows<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The tear that's cold and briny?</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE TO HIS PATRON.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Mæcenas, you're of noble line—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(Of which the proof convincing</span><br /> +Is that you buy me all my wine<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Without so much as wincing.)</span><br /> +<br /> +To different men of different minds<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Come different kinds of pleasure;</span><br /> +There's Marshall Field—what joy he finds<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In shears and cloth-yard measure!</span><br /> +<br /> +With joy Prof. Swing is filled<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While preaching godly sermons;</span><br /> +With bliss is Hobart Taylor thrilled<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When he is leading germans.</span><br /> +<br /> +While Uncle Joe Medill prefers<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To run a daily paper,</span><br /> +To Walter Gresham it occurs<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That law's the proper caper.</span><br /> +<br /> +With comedy a winning card,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How blithe is Richard Hooley;</span><br /> +Per contra, making soap and lard,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rejoices Fairbank duly.</span><br /> +<br /> +While<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> Armour in the sugar ham<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His summum bonum reaches,</span><br /> +MacVeagh's as happy as a clam<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In canning pears and peaches.</span><br /> +<br /> +Let Farwell glory in the fray<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which party hate increases—</span><br /> +His son-in-law delights to play<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gavottes and such like pieces.</span><br /> +<br /> +So each betakes him to his task—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So each his hobby nurses—</span><br /> +While I—well, all the boon I ask<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is leave to write my verses.</span><br /> +<br /> +Give, give that precious boon to me<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I shall envy no man;</span><br /> +If not the noblest I shall be<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At least the happiest Roman!</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE "ARS POETICA" OF HORACE—XVIII.</span></p> + +<p class="center">(Lines 323-333.)</p> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +The Greeks had genius—'twas a gift<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Muse vouchsafed in glorious measure;</span><br /> +The boon of Fame they made their aim<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And prized above all worldly treasure.</span><br /> +<br /> +But <i>we</i>—how do we train <i>our</i> youth?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Not</i> in the arts that are immortal,</span><br /> +But in the greed for gains that speed<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From him who stands at Death's dark portal.</span><br /> +<br /> +Ah, when this slavish love of gold<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Once binds the soul in greasy fetters,</span><br /> +How prostrate lies—how droops and dies<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The great, the noble cause of letters!</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE I, 34.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +I have not worshiped God, my King—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Folly has led my heart astray;</span><br /> +Backward I turn my course to learn<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The wisdom of a wiser way.</span><br /> +<br /> +How marvelous is God, the King!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How do His lightnings cleave the sky—</span><br /> +His thundering car spreads fear afar,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And even hell is quaked thereby!</span><br /> +<br /> +Omnipotent is God, our King!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There is no thought He hath not read,</span><br /> +And many a crown His hand plucks down<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To place it on a worthier head!</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE I, 33.</span></p> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Not to lament that rival flame<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wherewith the heartless Glycera scorns you,</span><br /> +Nor waste your time in maudlin rhyme,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How many a modern instance warns you.</span><br /> +<br /> +Fair-browed Lycoris pines away<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Because her Cyrus loves another;</span><br /> +The ruthless churl informs the girl<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He loves her only as a brother.</span><br /> +<br /> +For he, in turn, courts Pholoe—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A maid unscotched of love's fierce virus—</span><br /> +Why, goats will mate with wolves they hate<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ere Pholoe will mate with Cyrus!</span><br /> +<br /> +Ah, weak and hapless human hearts—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By cruel Mother Venus fated</span><br /> +To spend this life in hopeless strife,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Because incongruously mated!</span><br /> +<br /> +Such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> torture, Albius, is my lot;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For, though a better mistress wooed me,</span><br /> +My Myrtale has captured me<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And with her cruelties subdued me!</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE "ARS POETICA" OF HORACE—I.</span></p> + +<p class="center">(Lines 1-23.)</p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Should painters attach to a fair human head<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The thick, turgid neck of a stallion,</span><br /> +Or depict a spruce lass with the tail of a bass—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I am sure you would guy the rapscallion!</span><br /> +<br /> +Believe me, dear Pisos, that such a freak<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is the crude and preposterous poem</span><br /> +Which merely abounds in a torrent of sounds<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With no depth of reason below 'em.</span><br /> +<br /> +'Tis all very well to give license to art—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The wisdom of license defend I;</span><br /> +But the line should be drawn at the fripperish sprawn<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of a mere cacoethes scribendi.</span><br /> +<br /> +It is too much the fashion to strain at effects—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yes, that's what's the matter with Hannah!</span><br /> +Our popular taste by the tyros debased<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Paints each barnyard a grove of Diana!</span><br /> +<br /> +Should<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> a patron require you to paint a marine,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Would you work in some trees with their barks on?</span><br /> +When his strict orders are for a Japanese jar,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Would you give him a pitcher like Clarkson?</span><br /> +<br /> +Now this is my moral: Compose what you may,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And fame will be ever far distant,</span><br /> +Unless you combine with a simple design<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A treatment in toto consistent.</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE GREAT JOURNALIST IN SPAIN.</span></p> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Good Editor Dana—God bless him, we say!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will soon be afloat on the main,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Will be steaming away</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Through the mist and the spray</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To the sensuous climate of Spain.</span><br /> +<br /> +Strange sights shall he see in that beautiful land<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which is famed for its soap and Moor,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For, as we understand,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The scenery is grand,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though the system of railway is poor.</span><br /> +<br /> +For moonlight of silver and sunlight of gold<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Glint the orchards of lemons and mangoes,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And the ladies, we're told,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Are a joy to behold</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As they twine in their lissome fandangoes.</span><br /> +<br /> +What though our friend Dana shall twang a guitar<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And murmur a passionate strain—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Oh, fairer by far</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Than these ravishments are</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The castles abounding in Spain!</span><br /> +<br /> +These<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> castles are built as the builder may list—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They are sometimes of marble or stone,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">But they mostly consist</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Of east wind and mist</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With an ivy of froth overgrown.</span><br /> +<br /> +A beautiful castle our Dana shall raise<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On a futile foundation of hope,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And its glories shall blaze</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">In the somnolent haze</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the mythical lake del y Soap.</span><br /> +<br /> +The fragrance of sunflowers shall swoon on the air,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the visions of dreamland obtain,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And the song of "World's Fair"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Shall be heard everywhere</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through that beautiful castle in Spain.</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">REID, THE CANDIDATE.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +I saw a brave compositor<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Go hustling o'er the mead,</span><br /> +Who bore a banner with these words:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Hurrah for Whitelaw Reid!"</span><br /> +<br /> +"Where go you, brother slug," I asked,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"With such unusual speed?"</span><br /> +He quoth: "I go to dump my vote<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For gallant Whitelaw Reid!"</span><br /> +<br /> +"But what has Whitelaw done," I asked,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"That now he should succeed?"</span><br /> +Said he: "The stanchest, truest friend<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We have is Whitelaw Reid!</span><br /> +<br /> +"There are no terms we can suggest<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That he will not concede;</span><br /> +He is converted to our faith,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is gallant Whitelaw Reid!</span><br /> +<br /> +"The union it must be preserved—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That is this convert's creed,</span><br /> +And that is why we're whooping up<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The cause of Whitelaw Reid!"</span><br /> +<br /> +"If<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> what you say of him be sooth,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You have a friend indeed,</span><br /> +So go on your winding way," quoth I,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"And whoop for Whitelaw Reid!"</span><br /> +<br /> +So on unto the polls I saw<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That printer straight proceed</span><br /> +While other printers swarmed in swarms<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To vote for Whitelaw Reid.</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">A VALENTINE.</span></p> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Four little sisters standing in a row—<br /> +Which of them I love best I really do not know.<br /> +Sometimes it is the sister dressed out so fine in blue,<br /> +And sometimes she who flaunts the beauteous robe of emerald hue;<br /> +Sometimes for her who wears the brown my tender heart has bled,<br /> +And then again I am consumed of love for her in red.<br /> +So now I think I'll send this valentine unto the four—<br /> +I love them all so very much—how could a man do more?</td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">KISSING-TIME.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +'Tis when the lark goes soaring,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the bee is at the bud,</span><br /> +When lightly dancing zephyrs<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sing over field and flood;</span><br /> +When all sweet things in Nature<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Seem joyfully a-chime—</span><br /> +'Tis then I wake my darling,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For it is kissing-time!</span><br /> +<br /> +Go, pretty lark, a-soaring,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And suck your sweets, O bee;</span><br /> +Sing, O ye winds of summer,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your songs to mine and me.</span><br /> +For with your song and rapture<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cometh the moment when</span><br /> +It is half-past kissing-time<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And time to kiss again!</span><br /> +<br /> +So—so the days go fleeting<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like golden fancies free,</span><br /> +And every day that cometh<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is full of sweets for me;</span><br /> +And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> sweetest are those moments<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My darling comes to climb</span><br /> +Into my lap to mind me<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That it is kissing-time.</span><br /> +<br /> +Sometimes, may be, he wanders<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A heedless, aimless way—</span><br /> +Sometimes, may be, he loiters<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In pretty, prattling play;</span><br /> +But presently bethinks him<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And hastens to me then,</span><br /> +For it's half-past kissing time<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And time to kiss again!</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE FIFTH OF JULY.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +The sun climbs up, but still the tyrant Sleep<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Holds fast our baby boy in his embrace;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The slumb'rer sighs, anon athwart his face</span><br /> +Faint, half-suggested frowns like shadows creep,<br /> +One little hand lies listless on his breast,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">One little thumb sticks up with mute appeal,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While motley burns and powder marks reveal</span><br /> +The fruits of boyhood's patriotic zest.<br /> +<br /> +Our baby's faithful poodle crouches near—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He, too, is weary of the din and play</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That come with glorious Independence Day,</span><br /> +But which, thank God! come only once a year!<br /> +And Fido, too, has suffered in this cause,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which once a year right noisily obtains,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For Fido's tail—or what thereof remains—</span><br /> +Is not so fair a sight as once it was.</td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">PICNIC-TIME.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +It's June agin, an' in my soul I feel the fillin' joy<br /> +That's sure to come this time o' year to every little boy;<br /> +For, every June, the Sunday schools at picnics may be seen,<br /> +Where "fields beyont the swellin' floods stand dressed in livin' green."<br /> +Where little girls are skeered to death with spiders, bugs an' ants,<br /> +An' little boys get grass-stains on their go-to-meetin' pants.<br /> +It's June agin, an' with it all what happiness is mine—<br /> +There's goin' to be a picnic an' I'm goin' to jine!<br /> +<br /> +One year I jined the Baptists, an' goodness! how it rained!<br /> +(But grampa says that that's the way "Baptizo" is explained.)<br /> +And once I jined the 'piscopils an' had a heap o' fun—<br /> +But the boss of all the picnics was the Presbyterium!<br /> +They had so many puddin's, sallids, sandwidges an' pies,<br /> +That<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> a feller wisht his stummick was as hungry as his eyes!<br /> +Oh, yes, the eatin' Presbyteriums give yer is so fine<br /> +That when <i>they</i> have a picnic, you bet <i>I'm</i> goin' to jine!<br /> +<br /> +But at this time the Methodists have special claims on me,<br /> +For they're goin' to give a picnic on the 21st, D. V.;<br /> +Why should a liberal Universalist like me object<br /> +To share the joys of fellowship with every friendly sect?<br /> +However het'rodox their articles of faith elsewise may be,<br /> +Their doctrine of fried chick'n is a savin' grace to me!<br /> +So on the 21st of June, the weather bein' fine,<br /> +They're goin' to give a picnic, and I'm goin' to jine!</td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE ROMANCE OF A WATCH.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +One day his father said to John:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Come here and see what I hev bought—-</span><br /> +A Waterbury watch, my son—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It is the boon you long hev sought!"</span><br /> +<br /> +The boy could scarcely believe his eyes—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The watch was shiny, smooth an' slick—</span><br /> +He snatched the nickel-plated prize<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' wound away to hear it tick.</span><br /> +<br /> +He wound an' wound, an' wound an' wound,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' kept a windin' fit to kill—</span><br /> +The weeks an' months an' years rolled round,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But John he kep' a windin', still!</span><br /> +<br /> +As autumns came an' winters went<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' summers follered arter spring,</span><br /> +John didn't mind—he was intent<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On windin' up that darned ol' thing.</span><br /> +<br /> +He got to be a poor ol' man—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He's bald an' deaf an' blind an' lame,</span><br /> +But, like he did when he began,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He keeps on windin', jest the same!</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">OUR BABY.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +'Tis very strange, but quite as true,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That when our Baby smiles</span><br /> +Our club gets walloped black and blue<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In all the latest styles;</span><br /> +But when our Baby's hopping mad<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It's quite the other way—</span><br /> +Chicago beats the Yankees bad<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When Baby doesn't play.</span><br /> +<br /> +When baby stands upon his base,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Just after having kicked,</span><br /> +Upon his Scandinavian face<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Appears the legend, "Licked";</span><br /> +But when he orders out a sub,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We well may hip-hooray—</span><br /> +Chicago has the winning club<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When Baby doesn't play.</span><br /> +<br /> +But, if our Baby's getting old,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And stiff, and cross, and vain,</span><br /> +And if his days are nearly told,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh, let us not complain.</span><br /> +Let's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> rather think of what he was<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And how he's made it pay</span><br /> +To hire the kids that win because<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our Baby doesn't play.</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE COLOR THAT SUITS ME BEST.</span></p> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Any color—so long as it's red—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is the color that suits me best,</span><br /> +Though I will allow there is much to be said<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For yellow and green and the rest;</span><br /> +But the feeble tints, which some affect<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the things they make or buy,</span><br /> +Have never (I say it with all respect)<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Appealed to my critical eye.</span><br /> +<br /> +There's that in red that warmeth the blood<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And quickeneth a man within,</span><br /> +And bringeth to speedy and perfect bud<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The germs of original sin;</span><br /> +So, though I am properly born and bred,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'll own, with a certain zest,</span><br /> +That any color—so long as it's red—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is the color that suits me best!</span><br /> +<br /> +For where is a color that can be compared<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With the blush of a buxom lass—</span><br /> +Or where such warmth as of the hair<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the genuine white horse class?</span><br /> +And,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> lo, reflected in this cup<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of cherry Bordeaux I see</span><br /> +What inspiration girdeth me up—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yes, red is the color for me!</span><br /> +<br /> +Through acres and acres of art I've strayed<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In Italy, Germany, France;</span><br /> +On many a picture a master has made<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I've squandered a passing glance;</span><br /> +Marines I hate, madonnas and<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Those Dutch freaks I detest!</span><br /> +But the peerless daubs of my native land—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They're red, and I like them best!</span><br /> +<br /> +'Tis little I care how folks deride—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'm backed by the west, at least,</span><br /> +And we are free to say that we can't abide<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The tastes that obtain down east;</span><br /> +And we are mighty proud to have it said<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That here in the critical west,</span><br /> +Most any color—so long as it's red—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is the color that suits us best!</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">HOW TO "FILL."</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<p>It is understood that our esteemed Col. Franc B. Wilkie is going to +formulate a reply to Mrs. Ella Wheeler Wilcox's latest poem, which +begins as follows:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +"I hold it as a changeless law<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From which no soul can sway or swerve,</span><br /> +We have that in us which will draw<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whate'er we need or most deserve."</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>We fancy the genial colonel will start off with some such quatrain as +this:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +"I fain would have your recipe,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If you'll but give the snap away;</span><br /> +Now when four clubs are dealt to me,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How may I draw another, pray?"</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">POLITICS IN 1888.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<p>The Cleveland Leader must be getting ready for the campaign of 1888. We +find upon its editorial page quite a pretentious poem, entitled "Alpha +and Omega," and here is a sample stanza:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +"Whose name will stand for coming time<br /> +As hypocrites in prose and rhyme,<br /> +And be despised in every clime?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">The Mugwumps."</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>Well, may be so, but may we be permitted to add a stanza which seems to +us to be very pertinent just now?</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +And who next year, we'd like to know,<br /> +Will feed the Cleveland Leader crow,<br /> +Just as they did three years ago?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">The Mugwumps.</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE BASEBALL SCORE.</span></p> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +A boy came racing down the street<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In a most tumultuous way,</span><br /> +And he hollered at all he chanced to meet:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Hooray, hooray, hooray!"</span><br /> +His eyes and his breath were hot with joy<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And his cheeks were all aflame—</span><br /> +'Twas a rare event with the little boy<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When the champions won a game!</span><br /> +<br /> +"Twenty to 6" and "10 to 2"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Were rather dismal scores,</span><br /> +And they wreathed in a somewhat somber hue<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">These classic western shores;</span><br /> +We shuddered and winced at the cruel sport<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And our heads were bowed in shame</span><br /> +'Till Somewhere sent us the glad report<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That the champions won the game!</span><br /> +<br /> +Our Baby says it'll be all right<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For the champions by and by,</span><br /> +And the twin emotions of Hope and Fright<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gleam in his cod fish eye;</span><br /> +And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> Spalding says (in his modest way)<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That we'll get there all the same;</span><br /> +So let us holler, "Hooray, hooray,"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When the champions win the game.</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">CHICAGO NEWSPAPER LIFE.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<p>It pleases us to observe that the shocking habit of hurling opprobrious +epithets at each other has been abandoned by the venerable editor of the +Journal and the venerable editor of the Tribune. At this moment we are +reminded of the inspired lines of the eminent but now, alas! neglected +Watts:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +"Birds in their nests agree,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And 'tis a shocking sight</span><br /> +When folks, who should harmonious be,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fall out and chide and fight.</span><br /> +<br /> +"The tones of Andy and of Joe<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Should join in friendly games—</span><br /> +Not be debased to vice so low<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As that of calling names.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Bad names and naughty names require<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To be chastized at school,</span><br /> +But he's in danger of hell-fire<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who talks of 'crank' and 'fool.'</span><br /> +<br /> +"Oh<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> 'tis a dreadful thing to see<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The old folks smite and jaw,</span><br /> +But pleasant it is to agree<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On the election law.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Let Joe and Andy leave their wrongs<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For sinners to contest;</span><br /> +So shall they some time swell the songs<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of Israel's ransomed blest."</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE MIGHTY WEST.</span></p> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Oh, where abides the fond kazoo,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The barrel-organ fair,</span><br /> +And where is heard the tra-la-loo<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of fish horns on the air?</span><br /> +And where are found the fife and drum<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Discoursed with goodliest zest?</span><br /> +And where do fiddles liveliest hum?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The west—the mighty west!</span><br /> +<br /> +Sonatas, fugues, and all o' that<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Are rightly judged effete,</span><br /> +While largos written in B-flat<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Are clearly out of date;</span><br /> +Some like the cold pianny-forty,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But whistling suits us best—</span><br /> +And op'ry, if it isn't naughty,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will not catch on out west.</span><br /> +<br /> +From skinning hogs or canning beef<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or diving into stocks,</span><br /> +Could we expect to find relief<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In Haydns or in Bachs?</span><br /> +Ah,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> no; from pork and wheat and lard<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We turn aside with zest</span><br /> +To sing some opus of some bard<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whose home is in the west.</span><br /> +<br /> +So get ye gone, ye weakling crew!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your tunes are stale and flat,</span><br /> +And cannot hold a candle to<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The works of Silas Pratt!</span><br /> +His opuses are in demand<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And are the final test</span><br /> +By which all others fall or stand<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In this the mighty west!</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">APRIL.</span></p> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Now April with sweet showers of freshening rain<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Has roused last summer's vigorous breath once more;</span><br /> +'Tis in the air, the house, the street, the lane—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Puffs through the walls and oozes through the floor.</span><br /> +<br /> +The rau-cous-throated frog ayont the sty<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sends forth, as erst, his amerous vermal croak,</span><br /> +Each hungry mooly casts her swivel eye<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For pots and pails in which her nose to poke.</span><br /> +<br /> +With gurgling glee the gutter gushes by,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fraught all with filth, unknown and nameless dirt—</span><br /> +A dead green goose, an o'er-ripe rat I spy;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Head of a cat, tail of a flannel shirt.</span><br /> +<br /> +The querulous cry of every gabbling goose<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From thousand-scented mudholes echoes o'er;</span><br /> +The dogs and yawling cats have gotten loose<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And mock the hideous howls of hell once more.</span><br /> +<br /> +By<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> yon scrub oak, where roots the sallow sow,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In where John Murphy's wife outpours her slop;</span><br /> +Right there you'll find there's almost stench now<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To cause the world its nostrils to estop.</span><br /> +<br /> +And yonder dauntless goat that bank adown,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That wreathes his old fantastic horns so high,</span><br /> +Gnaws sadly on the bustle of Miss Brown,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which she discarded in the months gone by.</span><br /> +<br /> +So in Goose Island cometh April round;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Full eagerly we watch the month's approach—</span><br /> +The season of sweet sight and pleasant sound,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The season of the bedbug and the roach.</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">REPORT OF THE BASEBALL GAME.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +It was a very pleasant game,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And there was naught of grumbling</span><br /> +Until the baleful tidings came<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That Williamson was "fumbling."</span><br /> +Then all at once a hideous gloom<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fell o'er all manly features,</span><br /> +And Clayton's cozy, quiet room<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was full of frantic creatures.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Click, click," the tiny ticker went,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The tape began to rattle,</span><br /> +And pallid, eager faces bent<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To read the news from battle;</span><br /> +Down, down, ten million feet or more,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Chicago's hope went tumbling,</span><br /> +When came the word that Burns and Gore<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Pfeffer, too, were "fumbling."</span><br /> +<br /> +No diagram was needed then<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To point the Browns to glory—</span><br /> +The simple fact that these four men<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Were "fumbling" told the story.</span><br /> +There<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> is not a club in all the land—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No odds how weak or humble—</span><br /> +That beats us when our short-stop and<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our second baseman "fumble."</span><br /> +<br /> +There was some talk of hippodrome<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Mid frequent calls for liquor,</span><br /> +Then each Chicago man went home<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Much wiser, poorer, sicker;</span><br /> +And many a giant intellect<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Seemed slowly, surely crumbling</span><br /> +Beneath the dolorous effect<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of that St. Louis "fumbling."</span><br /> +<br /> +Ah, well, the struggle's but just begun,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So what is the use of fretting</span><br /> +If by a little harmless fun<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our boys can bull the betting?</span><br /> +When comes the tug of war there'll be<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No accidental stumbling,</span><br /> +And then, you bet your boots, you'll see<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No mention made of "fumbling."</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE ROSE.</span></p> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Since the days of old Adam the welkin has rung<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With the praises of sweet scented posies,</span><br /> +And poets in rapturous phrases have sung<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The paramount beauties of roses.</span><br /> +<br /> +Wheresoever she bides, whether nestling in lanes<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or gracing the proud urban bowers,</span><br /> +The red, royal rose her distinction maintains<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As the one regnant queen among flowers.</span><br /> +<br /> +How joyous are we of the west when we find<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That Fate, with her gifts ever chary,</span><br /> +Has decreed that the Rose, who is queen of her kind<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shall bloom on our wild western prairie.</span><br /> +<br /> +Let us laugh at the east as an impotent thing<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With envy and jealously crazy,</span><br /> +While grateful Chicago is happy to sing<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the praise of the rose—she's a daisy.</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">KANSAS CITY VS. DETROIT.</span></p> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +A rooster flapped his wings and crowed<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A merrysome cockadoodledoo,</span><br /> +As out of the west a cowboy rode<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To the land where the peach and the clapboard grew,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Humming a gentle tralalaloo.</span><br /> +<br /> +"O insect with the gilded wing,"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The cowboy cried, "Pray tell me true</span><br /> +Why do you crane your neck and sing<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That wearisome cockadoodledoo?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Would you like to learn the tralalaloo?"</span><br /> +<br /> +Now the rooster squawked an impudent word<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whereat the angered cowboy threw</span><br /> +His lariat at the haughty bird<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And choked him until his gills were blue</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And his eyes hung out an inch or two.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Now hear <i>me</i> sing," the cowboy cried;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"It ain't no cockadoodledoo—</span><br /> +It's a song we sing on the prairies wide—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The simple song of tralalaloo,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which is cowboy slang for 12 to 2."</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">ME AND BILKAMMLE.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I will, if you choose,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Impart you some news</span><br /> +That will greatly astound you, I know;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">You would never suspect</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">My ambition was wreck'd</span><br /> +'Till you heard my confession of woe.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">'Tis not that my boom</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Has ascended the flume—</span><br /> +In other words, gone up the spout—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I could smile a sweet smile</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">This tempestuous while,</span><br /> +But me and Bilkammle are out!<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Being timid and shrinkin',</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">He did all the thinkin',</span><br /> +When <i>I</i> did the talkin' worth mention;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">'Twas my constant ambition</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">To soar to position</span><br /> +So I gave it exclusive attention;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And supposin' that he</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Would of course be for me,</span><br /> +I rambled and prattled about<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">'Till I found to my horror,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Vexation, and sorror,</span><br /> +That me and Bilkammle were out.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">As<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> I tore my red hair</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">In a fit of despair</span><br /> +I heard my Achates complain<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">That the gent with the coffer</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Had nothing to offer</span><br /> +In the way of relieving his pain!<br /></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 3em;">* * * * * *</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 3em;">If there's mortal to blame</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For this villainous game</span><br /> +Which has snuffed a great man beyond doubt.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">It's that treacherous mammal</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Entitled Bilkammle—</span><br /> +Which accounts for us two bein' out!</td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">TO THE DETROIT BASEBALL CLUB.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +You've scooped the vealy city crowd<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of glory and of purse—</span><br /> +Why shouldn't Pegasus be proud<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To trot you out in a verse?</span><br /> +Chicago hoped to wallop you<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By a tremendous score,</span><br /> +But bit off more than it could chew,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As witness: "5 to 4."</span><br /> +<br /> +Well done, you 'Ganders! here's a hand<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To every one of you;</span><br /> +These record-breakers of the land<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now break themselves in two.</span><br /> +Well get their pennant—it shall float<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon our distant shore,</span><br /> +So let each patriotic throat<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hurrah for "5 to 4."</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">A BALLAD OF ANCIENT OATHS.</span></p> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Ther ben a knyght, Sir Hoten hight,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That on a time did swere</span><br /> +In mighty store othes mickle sore,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whiche grieved his wiffe to here.</span><br /> +<br /> +Soth, whenne she scoft, his wiffe did oft<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Swere as a lady may;</span><br /> +"I'faith," "I'sooth," or "lawk" in truth<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ben alle that wiffe wold say.</span><br /> +<br /> +Soe whenne her good man waxed him wood<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She mervailed much to here</span><br /> +The hejeous sound of othes full round<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The which her lord did swere.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Now, pray thee, speke and tell me eke<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What thing hath vexed thee soe?"</span><br /> +The wiffe she cried; but he replied<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By swereing moe and moe.</span><br /> +<br /> +Her sweren zounds which be Gog's wounds,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By bricht Marie and Gis,</span><br /> +By sweit Sanct Ann and holie Tan<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And by Bryde's bell, ywis.</span><br /> +<br /> +By<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> holie grails, by 'slids and 'snails,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By old Sanct Dunstan bauld,</span><br /> +The virgin faire that him did beare,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By him that Judas sauld;</span><br /> +<br /> +By Arthure's sword, by Paynim horde,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By holie modyr's teir,</span><br /> +By Cokis breath, by Zooks and 's death,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And by Sanct Swithen deir;</span><br /> +<br /> +By divells alle, both greate and smalle,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And in hell there be,</span><br /> +By bread and salt, and by Gog's malt,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And by the blody tree;</span><br /> +<br /> +By Him that worn the crown of thorn<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And by the sun and mone,</span><br /> +By deir Sanct Blanc and Sanct Fillane,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And three kings of Cologne;</span><br /> +<br /> +By the gude Lord and His sweit word,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By him that herryit hell,</span><br /> +By blessed Jude, by holie rude,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And eke be Gad himsell!</span><br /> +<br /> +He sweren soe (and mickle moe)<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It made man's flesch to creepen,</span><br /> +The air ben blue with his ado<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And sore his wiffe ben wepen.</span><br /> +<br /> +Giff<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> you wold know why sweren soe<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The goodman high Sir Hoten,</span><br /> +He ben full wroth, because, in soth,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He leesed his coler boten.</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">AN OLD SONG REVISED.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +John Hamilton, my Jo John,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When first we were acquaint</span><br /> +You were as lavish as could be<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With your vermillion paint;</span><br /> +But now the head that once was red<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Seems veiled in sable woe,</span><br /> +And clouds of gloom obscure your boom,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">John Hamilton, my Jo.</span><br /> +<br /> +Oh, was it Campbell's hatchet wrought<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The ruin we deplore?</span><br /> +Or was it Abnor Taylor's thirst<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For your abundant gore?</span><br /> +Or was it Hank's ambitious pranks<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That laid our idol low?</span><br /> +Come, let us know how came you so,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">John Hamilton, my Joe!</span><br /> +<br /> +We pine to know the awful truth.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So, pray, be pleased to tell</span><br /> +The story—full of tragic fire—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How one great statesman fell;</span><br /> +How<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> dives' hand stalked in the land<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And dealt a crushing blow</span><br /> +At one proud name—which you're the same,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">John Hamilton, my Jo!</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE GRATEFUL PATIENT.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +The doctor leaned tenderly over the bed<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And looked at the patient 's complexion,</span><br /> +And felt of the pulse and the feverish head,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then stood for a time in reflection.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">"A strange complication!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">My recommendation</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is morphia by hypodermic injection."</span><br /> +<br /> +The patient looked up with a leer in his eye<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And winked in the doctor's direction—</span><br /> +"Well, Doc," he remarked, "since you say I must die,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'm grateful to you for protection—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I'm now in position</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">To ask the commission</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">T' excuse me from serving as judge of election."</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE BEGINNING AND THE END.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Death<br /> +In my breath,<br /> +Cried I then:<br /> +"Men<br /> +Burn and blight!<br /> +Nourish crime!<br /> +Scale the height!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Climb, men, climb!</span><br /> +Climb and fight!<br /> +Win by might!<br /> +Wrong or right!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Blood!"</span><br /> +<br /> +Well<br /> +In a cell<br /> +Here I am—<br /> +D——n!<br /> +From my flight<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So sublime</span><br /> +I alight<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ere my time,</span><br /> +And in fright<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Here I grope</span><br /> +Through the night<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Without<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> hope.</span><br /> +What a plight!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ah, the rope!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thud!</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">CLARE MARKET.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +In the market of Clare, so cheery the glare<br /> +Of the shops and the booths of the tradespeople there,<br /> +That I take a delight, on a Saturday night,<br /> +In walking that way and viewing the sight;<br /> +For it's here that one sees all the objects that please—<br /> +New patterns in silk and old patterns in cheese,<br /> +For the girls pretty toys, rude alarums for boys,<br /> +And baubles galore which discretion enjoys—<br /> +But here I forbear, for I really despair<br /> +Of naming the wealth of the market of Clare!<br /> +<br /> +The rich man comes down from the elegant town,<br /> +And looks at it all with an ominous frown;<br /> +He seems to despise the grandiloquent cries<br /> +Of the vender proclaiming his puddings and pies;<br /> +And sniffing he goes through the lanes that disclose<br /> +Much cause for disgust to his sensitive nose;<br /> +Once free from the crowd, he admits that he is proud<br /> +That elsewhere in London this thing's not allowed—<br /> +He has seen nothing there but filth everywhere,<br /> +And he's glad to get out of the market of Clare.<br /> +<br /> +But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> the child that has come from the neighboring slum<br /> +Is charmed by the magic of dazzle and hum;<br /> +He feasts his big eyes on the cakes and pies<br /> +And they seem to grow green and protrude with surprise<br /> +At the goodies they vend and the toys without end—<br /> +And it's oh if he had but a penny to spend!<br /> +But alas! he must gaze in a hopeless amaze<br /> +At treasures that glitter and torches that blaze—<br /> +What sense of despair in this world can compare<br /> +With that of the waif in the market of Clare?<br /> +<br /> +So, on Saturday nights, when my custom invites<br /> +A stroll in old London for curious sights,<br /> +I am likely to stray by a devious way<br /> +Where goodies are spread in a motley array,<br /> +The things which some eyes would appear to despise<br /> +Impress me as pathos in homely disguise,<br /> +And my tattered waif friend shall have pennies to spend,<br /> +As long as I've got 'em (or friends that will lend);<br /> +And the urchin shall share in my joy and declare<br /> +That there's beauty and good in that marketplace there!</td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">UNCLE EPHRAIM.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +My Uncle Ephraim was a man who did not live in vain,<br /> +And yet, why he succeeded so I never <i>could</i> explain;<br /> +By nature he was not endowed with wit to a degree,<br /> +But folks allowed there nowhere lived a better man than he;<br /> +He started poor but soon got rich; he went to congress then,<br /> +And held that post of honor long against much brainier men;<br /> +He never made a famous speech or did a thing of note,<br /> +And yet the praise of Uncle Eph welled up from every throat.<br /> +<br /> +I recollect I never heard him say a bitter word;<br /> +He never carried to and fro unpleasant things he heard;<br /> +He always doffed his hat and spoke to every one he knew,<br /> +He tipped to poor and rich alike a genial "how-dy'-do";<br /> +He kissed the babies, praised their looks, and said: "That child will grow<br /> +To<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> be a Daniel Webster or our president, I know!"<br /> +His voice was so mellifluous, his smile so full of mirth,<br /> +That folks declared he was the best and smartest man on earth!<br /> +<br /> +Now, father was a <i>smarter</i> man, and yet he never won<br /> +Such wealth and fame as Uncle Eph, "the deestrick's favorite son";<br /> +He had "convictions" and he was not loath to speak his mind—<br /> +He went his way and said his say as he might be inclined;<br /> +Yes, <i>he</i> was brainy; yet his life was hardly a success—<br /> +He was too honest and too smart for this vain world, I guess!<br /> +At any rate, I wondered he was unsuccessful when<br /> +My Uncle Eph, a duller man, was so revered of men!<br /> +<br /> +When Uncle Eph was dying he called me to his bed,<br /> +And in a tone of confidence inviolate he said:<br /> +"Dear Willyum, ere I seek repose in yonder blissful sphere<br /> +I fain would breathe a secret in your adolescent ear;<br /> +Strive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> not to hew your way through life—it really doesn't pay;<br /> +Be sure the salve of flattery soaps all you do and say!<br /> +Herein the only royal road to fame and fortune lies;<br /> +Put not your trust in vinegar—<i>molasses</i> catches flies!"</td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">THIRTY-NINE.</span></p> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +O hapless day! O wretched day!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I hoped you'd pass me by—</span><br /> +Alas, the years have sneaked away<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And all is changed but I!</span><br /> +Had I the power, I would remand<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You to a gloom condign,</span><br /> +But here you've crept upon me and<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I—I am thirty-nine!</span><br /> +<br /> +Now, were I thirty-five, I could<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Assume a flippant guise,</span><br /> +Or, were I forty years, I should<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Undoubtedly look wise;</span><br /> +For forty years are said to bring<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sedateness superfine,</span><br /> +But thirty-nine don't mean a thing—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>A bas</i> with thirty-nine!</span><br /> +<br /> +You healthy, hulking girls and boys—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What makes you grow so fast?</span><br /> +Oh, I'll survive your lusty noise—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'm tough and bound to last!</span><br /> +No,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> no—I'm old and withered, too—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I feel my powers decline.</span><br /> +(Yet none believes this can be true<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of one at thirty-nine.)</span><br /> +<br /> +And you, dear girl with velvet eyes,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I wonder what you mean</span><br /> +Through all our keen anxieties<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By keeping sweet sixteen.</span><br /> +With your dear love to warm my heart,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wretch were I to repine—</span><br /> +I was but jesting at the start—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'm glad I'm thirty-nine!</span><br /> +<br /> +So, little children, roar and race<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As blithely as you can</span><br /> +And, sweetheart, let your tender grace<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Exalt the Day and Man;</span><br /> +For then these factors (I'll engage)<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All subtly shall combine</span><br /> +To make both juvenile and sage<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The one who's thirty-nine!</span><br /> +<br /> +Yes, after all, I'm free to say<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That I rejoice to be</span><br /> +Standing as I do stand to-day<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Twixt devil and deep sea;</span><br /> +For,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> though my face be dark with care<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or with a grimace shine,</span><br /> +Each haply falls unto my share;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Since I am thirty-nine!</span><br /> +<br /> +'Tis passing meet to make good cheer<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And lord it like a king,</span><br /> +Since only once we catch the year<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That doesn't mean a thing.</span><br /> +O happy day! O gracious day!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I pledge thee in this wine—</span><br /> +Come let us journey on our way<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A year, good Thirty-Nine!</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">HORACE I, 18.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">O Varus mine</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Plant thou the vine</span><br /> +Within this kindly soil of Tibur;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Nor temporal woes</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Nor spiritual knows</span><br /> +The man who's a discreet imbiber.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For who doth croak</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Of being broke</span><br /> +Or who of warfare, after drinking?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">With bowl atween us,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Of smiling Venus</span><br /> +And Bacchus shall we sing, I'm thinking.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Of symptoms fell</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Which brawls impel</span><br /> +Historic data give us warning;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The wretch who fights</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">When full of nights</span><br /> +Is bound to have a head next morning.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I do not scorn</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">A friendly horn,</span><br /> +But noisy toots—I can't abide 'em!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Your howling bat</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Is stale and flat</span><br /> +To one who knows, because he's tried 'em!<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> secrets of</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The life of love</span><br /> +(Companionship with girls and toddy)<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I would not drag</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">With drunken brag</span><br /> +Into the ken of everybody,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">But in the shade</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Let some coy maid</span><br /> +With smilax wreathe my flagon's nozzle—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Then, all day long,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">With mirth and song,</span><br /> +Shall I enjoy a quiet sozzle!</td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">THREE RHINELAND DRINKING SONGS.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<p class="center">I.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +If our life is the life of a flower<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(And that's what some sages are thinking),</span><br /> +We should moisten the bud with a health-giving flood<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And 'twill bloom all the sweeter—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Yes, life's the completer</span><br /> +For drinking,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">and drinking,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;">and drinking!</span><br /> +<br /> +If it be that our life is a journey<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(As many wise folks are opining),</span><br /> +We should sprinkle the way with the rain while we may;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Though dusty and dreary,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">'Tis made cool and cheery</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With wining,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">and wining,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;">and wining!</span><br /> +<br /> +If this life that we live be a dreaming<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(As pessimist people are thinking),</span><br /> +To<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> induce pleasant dreams there is nothing, me seems,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Like this sweet prescription,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That baffles description—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This drinking,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">and drinking,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;">and drinking!</span></td></tr></table> +<p> </p> + +<p class="center">II.</p> + +<p class="center">("Fiducit.")</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Three comrades on the German Rhine—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Defying care and weather—</span><br /> +Together quaffed the mellow wine<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And sung their songs together,</span><br /> +What recked they of the griefs of life<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With wine and song to cheer them?</span><br /> +Though elsewhere trouble might be rife,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It would not come anear them!</span><br /> +<br /> +Anon one comrade passed away,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And presently another—</span><br /> +And yet unto the tryst each day<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Repaired the lonely brother,</span><br /> +And still, as gayly as of old,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That third one, hero-hearted,</span><br /> +Filled to the brim each cup of gold<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And called to the departed:</span><br /> +<br /> +"O<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> comrades mine, I see you not,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor hear your kindly greeting;</span><br /> +Yet in this old familiar spot<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Be still our loving meeting!</span><br /> +Here have I filled each bouting cup<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With juices red and cherry—</span><br /> +I pray ye drink the portion up,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, as of old, make merry!"</span><br /> +<br /> +And once before his tear-dimmed eyes,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All in the haunted gloaming,</span><br /> +He saw two ghostly figures rise<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And quaff the beakers foaming;</span><br /> +He heard two spirit voices call:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Fiducit, jovial brother!"</span><br /> +And so forever from that hall<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Went they with one another.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center">III.</p> + +<p class="center">(Der Mann im Keller.)</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +How cool and fair this cellar where<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My throne a dusky cask is!</span><br /> +To do no thing but just to sing<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And drown the time my task is!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The cooper, he's</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Resolved to please,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> answering to my winking,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">He fills me up</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Cup after cup</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For drinking, drinking, drinking.</span><br /> +<br /> +Begrudge me not this cozy spot<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In which I am reclining—</span><br /> +Why, who would burst with envious thirst<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When he can live by wining?</span><br /> +A roseate hue seems to imbue<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The world on which I'm blinking;</span><br /> +My fellow men—I love them when<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'm drinking, drinking, drinking.</span><br /> +<br /> +And yet, I think, the more I drink,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It's more and more I pine for—</span><br /> +Oh such as I (forever dry!)<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">God made this land of Rhine for!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And there is bliss</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In knowing this,</span><br /> +As to the floor I'm sinking;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I've wronged no man,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And never can,</span><br /> +While drinking, drinking, drinking!</td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE THREE TAILORS.</span></p> + + +<p class="center">(From the German of C. Herlossohn.)</p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +I shall tell you in rhyme how, once on a time,<br /> +Three tailors tramped up to the Inn Ingleheim<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">On the Rhine—lovely Rhine;</span><br /> +They were broke, but, the worst of it all, they were curst<br /> +With that malady common to tailors—a thirst<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For wine—lots of wine!</span><br /> +<br /> +"Sweet host," quoth the three, "we're as hard up as can be,<br /> +Yet skilled in the practice of cunning are we<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">On the Rhine—genial Rhine;</span><br /> +And we pledge you we will impart you that skill<br /> +Right quickly and fully, providing you'll fill<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Us with wine—cooling wine!"</span><br /> +<br /> +But that host shook his head, and warily said:<br /> +"Though cunning be good, we take money instead,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">On the Rhine—thrifty Rhine;</span><br /> +If ye fancy ye may without pelf have your way<br /> +You'll find there's both host and the devil to pay<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For your wine—costly wine!"</span><br /> +<br /> +Then <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>the first knavish wight took his needle so bright<br /> +And threaded its eye with a wee ray of light<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">From the Rhine—sunny Rhine;</span><br /> +And in such a deft way patched a mirror that day<br /> +That where it was mended no expert could say—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Done so fine—'twas for wine!</span><br /> +<br /> +The second thereat spied a poor little gnat<br /> +Go toiling along on his nose broad and flat<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Toward the Rhine—pleasant Rhine;</span><br /> +"Aha, tiny friend, I should hate to offend,<br /> +But your stockings need darning," which same did he mend,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">All for wine—soothing wine!</span><br /> +<br /> +And next there occurred what you'll deem quite absurd—<br /> +His needle a space in the wall thrust the third,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">By the Rhine—wondrous Rhine;</span><br /> +And then, all so spry, he leapt through the eye<br /> +Of that thin cambric needle; nay, think you I'd lie<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">About wine? Not for wine!</span><br /> +<br /> +The landlord allowed (with a smile) he was proud<br /> +To do the fair thing by that talented crowd<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">On the Rhine—generous Rhine!</span><br /> +So<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> a thimble filled he as full as could be;<br /> +"Drink long and drink hearty, my jolly guests three,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Of my wine—filling wine!"</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">MORNING HYMN.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +I'd dearly love to tear my hair<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And romp around a bit,</span><br /> +For I am mad enough to swear<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Since Brother Chauncy quit.</span><br /> +<br /> +I am so vilely prone to sin—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Vain ribald that I am—</span><br /> +I'd take a hideous pleasure in<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Just one prodigious "damn."</span><br /> +<br /> +But shall I yield to Satan's wiles<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And let my passions swell?</span><br /> +Nay, I will wreath my face in smiles,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And mock the powers of hell.</span><br /> +<br /> +And howsoever pride may roll<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Its billows through my frame,</span><br /> +I'll not condemn my precious soul<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Unto the quenchless flame!</span><br /> +<br /> +But rather will I humbly pray<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Divinity to wash</span><br /> +From out my mouth such words away<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As "Jiminy" and "Gosh."</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">DOCTORS.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +'Tis quite the thing to say and sing<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gross libels on the doctor—</span><br /> +To picture him an ogre grim<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or humbug-pill concocter;</span><br /> +Yet it's in quite another light<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My friendly pen would show him—</span><br /> +Glad that it might with verse repay<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some part of what I owe him!</span><br /> +<br /> +When one's all right he's prone to spite<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The doctor's peaceful mission;</span><br /> +But, when he's sick, it's loud and quick<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He bawls for a physician!</span><br /> +With other things the doctor brings<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sweet babes our hearts to soften;</span><br /> +Though I have four, I pine for more—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Good doctor, pray, come often!</span><br /> +<br /> +What though he sees death and disease<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Run riot all around him,</span><br /> +Patient and true, and valorous, too—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Such have I always found him!</span><br /> +Where'er<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> he goes he soothes our woes,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, when skill's unavailing</span><br /> +And death is near, his words of cheer<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Support our courage failing.</span><br /> +<br /> +In ancient days they used to praise<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The godlike art of healing;</span><br /> +An art that then engaged all men<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Possessed of sense and feeling;</span><br /> +Why, Raleigh—he was glad to be<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Famed for a quack elixir,</span><br /> +And Digby sold (as we are told)<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A charm for folk love-sick, sir!</span><br /> +<br /> +Napoleon knew a thing or two,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And clearly he was partial</span><br /> +To doctors, for, in time of war,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He chose one for marshal,</span><br /> +In our great cause a doctor was<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The first to pass death's portal,</span><br /> +And Warren's name at once became<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A beacon and immortal!</span><br /> +<br /> +A heap, indeed, of what we read<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By doctors is provided,</span><br /> +For to those groves Apollo loves<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their leaning is decided;</span><br /> +Deny<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> who may that Rabelais<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is first in wit and learning—</span><br /> +And yet all smile and marvel while<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His brilliant leaves they're turning.</span><br /> +<br /> +How Lever's pen has charmed all men—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How touching Rab's short story!</span><br /> +And I will stake my all that Drake<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is still the schoolboy's glory!</span><br /> +A doctor-man it was began<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Great Britain's great museum;</span><br /> +The treasures there are all so rare,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It drives me wild to see 'em!</span><br /> +<br /> +There's Cuvier, Parr and Rush—they are<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Big monuments to learning;</span><br /> +To Mitchell's prose (how smooth it flows!)<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We all are fondly turning;</span><br /> +Tomes might be writ of that keen wit<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which Abernethy's famed for—</span><br /> +With bread-crumb pills he cured the ills<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Most doctors get blamed for!</span><br /> +<br /> +In modern times the noble rhymes<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of Holmes (a great physician!)</span><br /> +Have solace brought and wisdom taught<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To hearts of all conditions.</span><br /> +The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> sailor bound for Puget sound<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Finds pleasure still unfailing,</span><br /> +If he but troll the barcarole<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Old Osborne wrote on Whaling!</span><br /> +<br /> +If there were need I could proceed<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ad naus, with this prescription,</span><br /> +But, inter nos, a larger dose<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Might give you fits conniption;</span><br /> +Yet, ere I end, there's one dear friend<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'd hold before these others,</span><br /> +For he and I in years gone by,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Have chummed around like brothers.</span><br /> +<br /> +Together we have sung in glee<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The songs old Horace made for</span><br /> +Our genial craft—together quaffed<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What bowls that doctor paid for!</span><br /> +I love the rest, but love him best,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, were not times so pressing,</span><br /> +I'd buy and send—you smile, old friend?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Well, then, here goes my blessing.</span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">BEN APFELGARTEN.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +There was a certain gentleman, Ben Apfelgarten called,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who lived way off in Germany a many years ago,</span><br /> +And he was very fortunate in being very bald,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And so was very happy he was so.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">He warbled all the day</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Such songs as only they</span><br /> +Who are very, very circumspect and very happy may;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The people wondered why,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">As the years went grinding by,</span><br /> +They never heard him once complain or even heave a sigh!<br /> +<br /> +The women of the province fell in love with genial Ben,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till (maybe you can fancy it) the dickens was to pay</span><br /> +Among the callow students and the sober-minded men—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With the women folk a-cuttin' up that way!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Why, they gave him turbans red</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">To adorn his hairless head,</span><br /> +And knitted jaunty nightcaps to protect him when abed!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">In<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> vain the rest demurred—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Not a single chiding word</span><br /> +Those ladies deigned to tolerate—remonstrance was absurd!<br /> +<br /> +Things finally got into such a very dreadful way<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That the others (oh, how artful!) formed the politic design</span><br /> +To send him to the reichstag; so, one dull November day<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They elected him a member from the Rhine!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Then the other members said:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"Gott in Himmel; what a head!"</span><br /> +But they marveled when his speeches they listened to or read;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And presently they cried:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"There must be heaps inside</span><br /> +Of the smooth and shiny cranium his constituents deride!"<br /> +<br /> +Well, when at last he up 'nd died—long past his ninetieth year—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The strangest and the most luguberous funeral he had,</span><br /> +For women came in multitudes to weep upon his bier—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The men all wond'ring why on earth the women had gone mad!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> this wonderment increased,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Till the sympathetic priest</span><br /> +Inquired of those same ladies: "Why this fuss about deceased?"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Whereupon they were appalled,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For, as one, those women squalled:</span><br /> +"We doted on deceased for being bald—bald—bald!"<br /> +<br /> +He was bald because his genius burnt that shock of hair away,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which, elsewise, clogs one's keenness and activity of mind,</span><br /> +And (barring present company, of course,) I'm free to say<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That, after all, it's intellect that captures woman-kind.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">At any rate, since then</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">(With a precedent in Ben),</span><br /> +The women-folk have been in love with us bald-headed men!</td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">IN HOLLAND.</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Our course lay up a smooth canal<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through tracks of velvet green,</span><br /> +And through the shade that windmills made,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And pasture lands between.</span><br /> +The kine had canvas on their backs<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To temper Autumn's spite,</span><br /> +And everywhere there was an air<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of comfort and delight.</span><br /> +<br /> +My wife, dear philosophic soul!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Saw here whereof to prate:</span><br /> +"Vain fools are we across the sea<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To boast our nobler state!</span><br /> +Go north or south or east or west,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or wheresoever you please,</span><br /> +You shall not find what's here combined—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Equality and ease!</span><br /> +<br /> +"How tidy are these honest homes<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In every part and nook—</span><br /> +The men folk wear a prosperous air,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The women happy look.</span><br /> +Seeing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> the peace that smiles around,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I would our land was such—</span><br /> +Think as you may, I'm free to say<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I would we were the Dutch!"</span><br /> +<br /> +Just then we overtook a boat<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(The Golden Tulip hight)—</span><br /> +Big with the weight of motley freight,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It was a goodly sight!</span><br /> +Meynheer van Blarcom sat on deck,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With pipe in lordly pose,</span><br /> +And with his son of twenty-one<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He played at dominoes.</span><br /> +<br /> +Then quoth my wife: "How fair to see<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This sturdy, honest man</span><br /> +Beguile all pain and lust of gain<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With whatso joys he can;</span><br /> +Methinks his spouse is down below<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Beading a kerchief gay—</span><br /> +A babe, mayhap, lolls in her lap<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the good old Milky way.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Where in the land from whence we came<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is there content like this—</span><br /> +Where such disdain of sordid gain,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Such sweet domestic bliss?</span><br /> +A<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> homespun woman I, this land<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Delights me overmuch—</span><br /> +Think as you will and argue still,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I like the honest Dutch."</span><br /> +<br /> +And then my wife made end of speech—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her voice stuck in her throat,</span><br /> +For, swinging around the turn, we found<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What motor moved the boat;</span><br /> +Hitched up in tow-path harness there<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was neither horse nor cow,</span><br /> +But the buxom frame of a Hollandische dame—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Meynheer van Blarcom's frau.</span></td></tr></table> +<p> </p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="big">TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:</span></p> + + + <p><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Obvious typographical errors have been corrected as follows:</span></p> + + <p><span style="margin-left: 4em;">Page 6: <i>Japan</i> changed to <i>Spain</i></span><br/> + <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Page 85: <i>you re</i> changed to <i>you're</i></span><br/> + <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Page 101: comma added after <i>spiders</i></span><br/> + <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Page 113: ' changed to " before <i>Let</i></span><br/> + <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Page 157: <i>the</i> changed to <i>they</i></span></p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Hoosier Lyrics, by Eugene Field + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOOSIER LYRICS *** + +***** This file should be named 36150-h.htm or 36150-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/1/5/36150/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David E. 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