?^"9 / THE LAUGHING MUSE- ARTHUR GUITERMAN HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS NEW YORK AND LONDON The author acknowledges with thanks the courtesy of the editors of Life, The New York Times, Woman s Home Companion, Harper s Magazine, The Century, St. Nicholas, Collier s Weekly, The Bookman, Munsey s Magazine, Scribner s Magazine, Puck, The Youth s Companion, Smart Set, The Ladies Home Journal, The Ladies 1 World, Good Housekeeping, and The Sun, in granting permission to reprint the verses contained in this book. THE LAUGHING MUSE Copyright, 1915, by Harper & Brothers Printed in the United States of America Published September, 1915 M-Q FATE, THE JESTER The planets are bells on his motley, He fleers at the stars in their state, He banters the suns burning hotly The Jester whose nickname is Fate. The lanterns that kindle their rays with The comets, are food for his mirth; But, oh, how he laughs as he plays with His mad little bauble, the Earth! He looks on the atomies crowding The face of our pitiful ball; His form in the nebula shrouding, He chuckles, unnoted of all The valorous puppets that chatter Superbly of Little and Great. A flip of his finger would shatter The dreams of these "Masters of Fate" 3969 He laughs at their strivings and rages And tosses the murmurant sphere To bowl through the zodiac-stages That measure the groove of a Year. He laughs as he trips up the maddest Who scramble for power and place, But laughs with the bravest and gladdest Fate s comrades, who laugh in his face; Who laugh at themselves and their troubles Whatever the beaker they quaff; Who, laughing at Vanity s bubbles, Forget not to love as they laugh; Who laugh in the teeth of disaster, Yet hope through the darkness to find A road past the stars to a Master Of Fate in the vastness behind. CONTENTS PAGE FATE, THE JESTER v GREAT ADVENTURES THE QUEST OF THE RIBBAND 3 STRICTLY GERM-PROOF n THE LEGEND OF THE FIRST CAM-U-EL .... 13 A PROVERBIAL TRAGEDY 16 THE HAT 17 A TROPICAL TRAGEDY 21 THE QUEST OF THE CAR 23 A TRACT FOR AUTOS 31 THE TALE OF A DAGHESTAN RUG 34 A PURE MATHEMATICIAN 40 THE POEM ON SPRING . . . 42 TRUE SPRING 47 AN ADIRONDACK IDYLL 48 A BUNGALOW 52 DORLAN S HOME-WALK 55 BASEBALL IN DE PARK 59 A NEW MEXICAN BO-PEEP 62 THE MEXICAN HAMMOCK . , 67 A LAY OF MASSACHUSETTS BAY ...... 70 CONTENTS PAGE THE PILGRIMS THANKSGIVING FEAST .... 73 THE WISHBONE 75 A TRUE BILL AGAYNST CHRISTMASSE .... 77 THE STOCKING 79 A BRIDGE SCANDAL 81 HENRY HUDSON S LOG 82 WHITE MAGIC 85 A PERSIAN APOLOGUE 86 TACT 88 FAME 91 LOGIC 92 A HINDU RIDDLE 94 THE IRREVERENT BRAHMIN 95 BREAD 97 THE STONE S JOKE 98 THE BEST AND WORST NAIL IN THE ARK . . 100 WHAT THE DEVIL SAID TO NOAH 103 MIDNIGHT ALPHABET 105 MAINLY FEMININE THIS Is SHE in THE LASSES o* LINTON 114 FASHION 115 THE WIND MAIDEN 117 A SKETCH FROM THE LIFE 118 A WHOLE DAY! 120 ONE FEATHER 121 THE COUNTRY DANCE 123 CONTENTS PAGE THE ORGAN-GRINDER LADY AND THE SCISSORS- GRINDER MAN 124 A GREEK SONG 128 THE GROCERY BOY 129 A SONG FOR SILVIUS 130 THE PASSIONATE SUBURBANITE TO His LOVE . 131 OUR SUBURB 133 LOVERS LANE 135 TWIST-RHYME ON WOMEN 137 A VALENTINE 138 A BILL FROM CUPID 140 THE RAG DOLLY S VALENTINE 142 ARCHITECTURAL 144 A BOY AND A PUP , 145 ON CHERUBS 147 CHUMS 148 A STRIKE IN FAIRYLAND 150 HOUSE BLESSING 152 CLEVER ANIMALS WHY TIGERS CAN T CLIMB 155 PIGEON ENGLISH 157 THE MINA-BIRD !ij9 THE CARDINAL-BIRD 161 THE SMALL HOT ROBIN AND THE LARGE COLD WORM 162 WHY MOSQUITOES STING 164 THE BEE !66 CONTENTS PAGE THE FIRST CAT 168 THE KITTY AND THE CAT 170 .ETIQUETTE 172 LITTLE LOST PUP 174 THE AMBIGUOUS DOG . . 176 THE TALE OF TAILS 177 WOOD-HARVEST 180 COYOTE AND THE STAR 181 HOMEWARD BOUND 185 THE BALLAD OF THE BLACKBIRD 186 THE BAT 190 TEA WITH A DINOSAUR 191 THE HUMMING-BIRD 194 THE RABBIT OF WALES 195 MACARONI 198 THE CUCKOO 200 TRAMPING 202 MERE LITERATURE IMPUDENT INTERVIEWS: GEORGE BERNARD SHAW . 205 RUDYARD KIPLING 209 JACK LONDON 213 JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY 215 LETTERS TO THE LITERATI: To SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE . . . . 218 To J. M. BARRIE 221 To MAURICE HEWLETT 224 CONTENTS PAGE RHYMED REVIEW: BELLA DONNA, BY ROBERT HICHENS . . . 227 DlVINA COMMEDIA 230 THE YOUNG CELTIC POETS 231 MAVRONE 232 THE WRATH OF THE POET 234 THE NEO-CELTIC CRITICISM 237 THE VILLAIN PROTESTS 239 OPERA IN ENGLISH: AIDA 241 WHAT THE EDITOR W T ANTS 244 THE MENTORS 246 GREAT ADVENTURES THE QUEST OF THE RIBBAND LORD RONALD was lord of a high domain (He dwelt on the eighteenth floor). His bride was the Beauteous Lady Jane, A rose-colored robe she wore. A boudoir cap o* the velvet fine Lay soft on her tresses gold. She read the Advertisements line for line To know what the Papers told: Of laces at Macy s, of thimbles at Gimbel s, of urns at Stern s and churns at Hearn s, of axes at Saks s, gold eagels at Siegel s, rubber heels at O Neill s, fur mittens like Peary 9 s at Mr. McCreery s, and silver salt-shakers at John Wanamakers. "Now busk thee and boun thee, Lord Ronald!" she cried; "Away to the Bargain Sale [3] And fetch me a Band o the Silk o j Pride O* the hue o the lilac pale! "A Silken Band o j the width o my hand And rilled as the water clear; Of yards full three its length shall be, And its shade like the Sample, here!" The Sample he took from her fingers white, He kissed her with kisses four, And hied him away oh, the Hardy Knight! To the Gate o the Mammoth Store. To him in the rush o j that Awesome Place Where gaping and dumb he stood, A Floor-Walker ambled with dainty grace And questioned him what he would. Quoth Ronald, "Thou Floor- Walker great and grand, A Word in thy Pearly Ear: Now where shall I get me a Silken Band 0* the shade o* the Sample here?" [41 He patted himself on the nut-brown hair, That Floor- Walker bright and brave; He pointed his Thumb to the marble stair And said, with a Gracious Wave: "Third aisle, right; down one flight; elevator; escalator; eighth floor, west; trousers pressed; second turning; wood-burning; shipping-clerk; fancy-work; straight ahead; cake and bread; past rest-room; near guest-room; photo-mounter; Ribbon-counter!" "Gramercy!" him answered Lord Ronald then, And turned on his heel full swift, And battled his way to that iron pen Which Englishmen call "The Lift." While up through the glimmering shaft they sped As fast as a Shooting Star, He spake to the Youth o the Woolly Head That governed the Iron Car: "Say thou o the Cap that is brightly bound Wi Braid o j the Golden Fleece, [51 Oh, where may a Ribband o Silk be found That s like to my Sample Piece?" The Galliard that governed the speeding Car From out of his dream awoke. He halted the Cage wi a grinding jar, He opened his lips and spoke: " Mind the door! Eighth floor! Iron-heaters, carpet-beaters; negligees, lacquer trays; prince sse slips, ostrich tips; curtain-poles, bolster-rolls; Brus sels nets, shaving-sets; ticket-punches, boxed lunch es; office dials, graded vials; -pillow-shams, smoked hams; silver gauze, rabbit paws; riding-crops, kitchen mops; opera scores, cedar oars; menu-holders, bill- folders; wax matches, window-catches; music chimes, pickled limes; paper pencils, pattern stencils; pow der-jars, fine cigars; printing-presses, party dresses; perambulators, over-gaiters, nutmeg- graters, indica tors; champagne-nippers, copper dippers, wire-clip pers, carpet slippers; couches, pouches; broilers, oilers; puzzles, muzzles; biggins, piggins; pins, tins; nibs, bibs; chains, canes; balls, shawls; dotted veils, percales, wooden pails, Special Sales: New [6] books , view books; sets of Gibbons, SILK RIBBONS r Now halted Lord Ronald and wavered long, But thought on his Dame s behest; And forth through the whirl of the jostling throng He fared on his knightly Quest. He sought for that Ribband of lilac hue Desired of his queenly Bride. Unswerving he held to his Purpose true, For nothing he turned aside, Though sirens expanded their Golden Smiles To dazzle the Daring Man Where hither and yon in the tangled aisles Were Magical Scrolls which ran: "Rices, spices lowest prices!" "Lamps, guimpes trading - stamps!" "Braids, brocades highest grades!" " Waists assorted just imported!" "Fancy collars seven dollars!" "Caps for nurses suit all purses!" "Pure confections choice selec tions!" " Water - wings, garden - swings; baby- 2 (7} wagons, crystal flagons; herbariums, aquariums; thermometers, barometers; zoetropes, microscopes, braided ropes, envelopes; stocks, blocks, frocks, clocks; mixing-bowls, casseroles!" Right onward he pressed to a Counter, dressed Wi Ribbands of every shade; And he was aware of a Maiden there Which spake to another Maid. But still as she chattered, that Maiden young, And settled her combs aright, "Now hearken, O Maid o the Lively Tongue," Cried Ronald, the Hardy Knight! "For fain would I buy wi the Silver due, Or else wi the gude red Gold, A Ribband o Silk o the lilac hue That s like to the Shred I hold." She daunted the Knight wi a Vacant Glare As though he were far away. She palsied his lips wi a Stony Stare While ever she said her say: [8] " Sez I, sez you, sez they, sez he; sez I to her, sez she to me. Sez I to him, We got to part! Oh, Girlie, ain t you got no heart? sez he, so sad, I nearly cried. He d took her for a auto-ride that Sadie! Ain t she got a nerve! Sez I to him, You don t deserve Sez he, f Just give a man a chance! Sez I, You goin to the dance? Sez I to him, sez he to me; sez you, sez they, sez I, sez she." Lord Ronald was stout, Lord Ronald was hale, Lord Ronald was bold, forby; His gauntlet he set on the counter-rail; He vaulted that Counter high! The Ribbands, he rummaged them To and Fro, He scattered them Fro and To, Till he Sund in its wrapping as white as snow The Ribband of lilac hue. Then yards full three wi his Snickersnee He cut of that Ribband gay; On the Counter he told its Weight in Gold And carried the Prize away; [9] Away from the Damsel of Cold Disdain, Away from the Mammoth Store. And he and the Beauteous Lady Jane Lived happily ever more. [10] STRICTLY GERM-PROOF / THE Antiseptic Baby and the Prophylactic Pup Were playing in the garden when the Bunny gam boled up; They looked upon the Creature with a loathing undisguised; It wasn t Disinfected and it wasn t Sterilized. They said it was a Microbe and a Hotbed of Disease; They steamed it in a vapor of a thousand-odd degrees; They froze it in a freezer that was cold as Banished Hope And washed it in permanganate with carbolated soap. In sulphureted hydrogen they steeped its wiggly ears; They trimmed its frisky whiskers with a pair of hard-boiled shears; They donned their rubber mittens and they took it by the hand And lected it a member of the Fumigated Band. There s not a Micrococcus in the garden where they play; They bathe in pure iodoform a dozen times a day; And each imbibes his rations from a Hygienic Cup The Bunny and the Baby and the Prophylactic Pup. [12] THE LEGEND OF THE FIRST CAM-U-EL AN ARABIAN APOLOGUE ACROSS the sands of Syria, Or, possibly, Algeria, Or some benighted neighborhood of barrenness and drouth, There came the Prophet Sam-u-el Upon the Only Cam-u-el A bumpy, grumpy Quadruped of discontented mouth. The atmosphere was glutinous; The Cam-u-el was mutinous; He dumped the pack from off his back; with horrid grunts and squeals He made the desert hideous; With strategy perfidious He tied his neck in curlicues, he kicked his paddy heels. [13] Then quoth the gentle Sam-u-el, "You rogue, I ought to lam you well! Though zealously I ve shielded you from every grief and woe, It seems, to voice a platitude, You haven t any gratitude. I d like to hear what cause you have for doing thus and so!" To him replied the Cam-u-el, "I beg your pardon, Sam-u-el. I know that I m a Reprobate, I know that I m a Freak; But, oh! this utter loneliness! My too-distinguished Onliness! Were there but other Cam-u-els I wouldn t be Unique." The Prophet beamed beguilingly. "Aha," he answered, smilingly, "You feel the need of company? I clearly under stand. We ll speedily create for you The corresponding mate for you Ho! presto, change-o, dinglebat!" he waved a potent hand, And, lo! from out Vacuity A second Incongruity, To wit, a Lady Cam-u-el was born through magic art. Her structure anatomical, Her form and face were comical; She was, in short, a Cam-u-el, the other s counter part. As Spaniards gaze on Aragon, Upon that Female Paragon So gazed the Prophet s Cam-u-el, that primal Desert Ship. A connoisseur meticulous, He found her that ridiculous He grinned from ear to auricle until he split his lip! Because of his temerity That Cam-u-el s posterity Must wear divided upper lips through all their solemn lives! A prodigy astonishing Reproachfully admonishing Those wicked, heartless married men who ridicule their wives. A PROVERBIAL TRAGEDY THE Rolling Stone and the Turning Worm And the Cat that Looked at a King Set forth on the Road that Leads to Rome For Youth will have its Fling, The Goose will lay the Golden Eggs, The Dog must have his Day, And Nobody locks the Stable Door Till the Horse is stol n away. But the Rolling Stone, that was never known To Look before the Leap Plunged down the hill to the Waters Still That run so dark, so deep; And the leaves were stirred by the Early Bird Who sought his breakfast where He marked the squirm of the Turning Worm And the Cat was Killed by Care! 16 THE HAT IT was a Gallant blithe and gay That walked the City Street; The Street, ywot, was hight "Broadway," The Gallant, "Master William Gray." He sought an Inn, yclept "Cafe," Because he wished to eat. He swung the Door with mickle Joy And entered in thereat, When came a Little Blackguard Boy With Buttons all of Brass Alloy, Which, much to Master Gray s Annoy, Essayed to Check his Hat. The pretty Hat! twas made of Fur, It bore a Ribband Bow; Twas soft and smooth as Miniver; That gentle Hat it seemed to purr; And Master Gray with strong Demur Refused to let it go. [17] "Thou shalt not have the Hat, pardee! That rests upon my Brow; A Hat it is of High Degree, Fve worn it both by Land and Sea, And in its Youth it sheltered me, And I ll protect it now!" Yet strove that Boy with Might and Main And showed a Screed of Rules Where "Check your Hat!" was written plain And eke, "All Guests must drink Champagne/ Quoth Master Gray in High Disdain, "Such Laws are made for Fools!" "Thou dst check my Hat, forsooth? I know Right well the why* and whence ! That when I boun myself to go Thou dst brush it hard, mon beau chapeau, And smirk, and smile, and lout full low To cozen me of Pence!" But now the Host a strong Array Of Waiters mustered there, [18! Which muttered, "Lout!" and "Country Jay!" "Where wouldst thou hang thy Hat?" scoffed they. Replied this Gallant, blithe and gay, "F faith, beneath my Chair!" They called the Watch with lusty Shout: The City Watch renowned, With Fire-lads, a sturdy Rout, And Train-bands, too, came bustling out, And all to tame the Stubborn Lout Which sternly held his Ground. "Give up the Hat," now swelled the Cry, "As it is meet ye should!" Whereto this Gallant made Reply, "Come One, come All, this Hat shall fly From its firm Base as soon as I!" And there the Matter stood Until Our People, Arms in Hand, Uprose! Their wild Debates And Tumults moved our Statesmen bland To change the Code which rules the Land [19] The Constitution great and Grand Of These United States! They framed a Law, those Statesmen good, In Congress as they sat: "Hereafter be it understood That None that seeks an Inn for Food Need Check his Headpiece, Cap, or Hood, Which is to say, his Hat." Then chant the Praise, with joyous Din, Of dauntless Master Gray, Which braved the Terrors of that Inn, The Hat-boy s Scowl, the Waiters Grin, And kept his Hat through Thick and Thin Upon that Famous Day! [20 A TROPICAL TRAGEDY AN Agile Ambulating Alligator Observed upon the bank one sultry eve, A Patronizing Prestidigitator With positively nothing up his sleeve. The Ravenous Reptilian Alligator Remarked, "It must be deuced hot in town!" And, winking at a Passing Legislator, He gulped the Prestidigitator down. Alas! the Portly Prestidigitator Was garnished with his Implements of Art A Wand, a Patent Lightning Calculator, A Rabbit and a Necromantic Chart. Such Objects in the Saurian s Equator Could hardly fail to put him out of trim; In fact, the Late-repenting Alligator Acknowledged that they disagreed with him. And thus a Drear, Dyspeptic Alligator Is stretched upon the Silicated Sands; A Predigested Prestidigitator Is what his Constitution now demands. [22] THE QUEST OF THE CAR AN AUTO-BUY-O-GRAPHIC BALLAD "Now whither and whither, Lord Ronald so gay, And whither so free and so far?" "I haste to the Bounds o the Great White Way To choose me a Motor-Car." "And what of the Car that ye mean to buy Its name and its Pedigree?" "Oh, ask of the Wind in the sounding Sky, But ask not that of me! "For it may be a Leal or a Pupmobile, A Krag or a Biff-McClung; For many, ye ken, are the Motor Men And marvelous glib of Tongue. "It may be a Czar or a Kwiggle-Kar, Or else, for aught I know, 3 [2 3 ] A Reinhardt-Fritz or a Dunderblitz Or a Clement-Rochefoucauld. *o c, k f titcoe "For vowed am I to a Mission high To search from East to West All Lands that are till I find the Car Which is approved the Best. "For I have sworn to my Lady Jane By her milk-white hand so small That none will I take for her sweet Sake, Until I have seen them all!" Lord Ronald was come to a proud Garage That stood by a dismal Fen; And there, by the Sound of their Persiflage, He knew were the Motor Men. And one there was with the Eagle Eye, The Face of the Hatchet True, The Shell-rimmed Glass and the Bulgar Tie And the Collar edged with blue. Oh, Rubies four had the Ring he wore, His Coat had the Latest Shape; [24] And his Cheek, shaved clean by a Razor keen, Was the Cheek of the Brazen Ape. He haled the Knight by the Fingers wan To where with Radiance crowned, A Golden Car was throned upon A Turning-table round. Oh, twice he bowed and thrice he bowed Before that Golden Chaise; Then full and strong and loud and long He sang its Hymn of Praise: "Approach! Approach! redoubted Knight! Ap proach, oh, lucky Neophyte, and view upon this wooden Stage the Wonder of the Horseless Age; the King, the Ace, the Jack and Queen of all that runs by Gasoline; Invention s Incandescent Star, the Unexampled Kwiggle-Kar! The Motor, first: I wish to state the Cylinders (they number eight with Tungsten Valves] are cast en bloc; and steady, steady as a Clock this Shaft of Higginbotham Steel propels the Patent Caisson Wheel which cannot slip in Mud or Mire because it wears the Skidmore Tire. Observe the Sweep from Front to Rear! [25] the Spiral Bevel Axle Gear, the Floating Axle, Intake Pipe, the Carburetor (Ogham type)! Can Future Ages say too much about our Multimetal Clutch the Brake that never disappoints, the Ban ning Universal Joints? Remark our patent Sud den Stop ! Oh, see our Spanish Leather Top, the easy-swinging Pinchless Door, the Turkish Rug upon the Floor! The Cushions, neatly tilted there, are stuffed with Hand-picked Monkey Hair. The Roland Horn the Oval Springs the Case for Goggles, Gloves, and Things Ignition Circu lation Splash Transmission Spark Plug Bumper Dash Magneto Radiator Feed Control Equipment Starter Speed! " He gasped and he clutched at the Atmosphere, He fell to the Parquet Floor. Lord Ronald bequeathed him a Silent Tear And went to the Shop Next Door. "Come hither! * he cried to the Man in Charge, "O thou of the Stately Mien, And tell of the Merits both small and large Possessed of thy Buzz machine! [26] "For far have I ridden and far must ride Abroad on my Knightly Quest To find, of all Cars in the World so wide, That Car which is proved the Best." The Motor Man rose from a Mission Bench That was of the Quartered Oak, And, beating the Air with a Monkey Wrench, His rhythmical Piece he spoke: "They brag yet do not heed howe er these others boast of Safety, Smoothness, Speed, or Trips from Coast to Coast. For even if they show a Vase for Silken Flowers, they have not well they know! a WIND SHIELD like to ours! All others in the Field lament: Alack, alas! we cannot match this Shield which is not made of Glass 9 ! Tis cut of Crystal clear that may not crack or dim; who has it need not fear, for naught can injure him. Be hold! you set it straight or slant it as you please, at seven, twenty-eight, or forty-five Degrees! It stops the Icy Blast, repels the Dusty Gust; it makes the Car run fast, it keeps the Parts from Rust. It keeps the Engine clean, it keeps the Tires sound, it [27] saves the Gasoline, it makes the Wheels go round. With deep, despairing Groans our Rivals have to yield! Then buy the Car that owns this Ne Plus Ultra Shield!" Sore tempted was Ronald, but heaved a Sigh And quoth as he left that Hall: "Nay, never a Motor I dare to buy Until I have seen them all!" And many and fair, aye, many and rare Were the Cars that his Eyes had seen When he entered a Store with a Rosewood Floor A Place for a Royal Queen. Each Lamp that glowed in that bright Abode Was pure as a Maiden s Tear; The Curtains that rolled from their Rods of Gold Were pink as a Bashful Ear. Of Onyx rich were the Columns, which Were smooth as the Watered Silk, And lighted through with the faint, far Blue That shines on the City Milk. [28! And there in the Shade of its Rose-leaf Hood, At rest in a Corner snug, A Car that was built for a Fairy stood, Its Wheels on a Persian Rug. A Squire rose up from a Velvet Seat And beamed on the Worthy Knight, And chanted his Tale in a Voice as sweet As the Trill of a Lark in Flight: "Rest, happy Traveler! Gaze upon the Car that s called the Oberon. A Beam of Light, a winged Flower, the Car that moves by Secret Power. What need to praise its Perfect Parts? Address it gently, and it starts. Just speak to it in kindly wise, and swiftly, softly, off it flies. Without a Murmur, Creak, or Jar, as silent as a Shooting Star it drifts along the Fragrant Miles, and when it sees a Hill it smiles! A Thing of Joy and Love and Song, it sweeps along, along, along, transporting them that ride within afar from Trouble, Toil, and Sin! 19 He turned on Lord Ronald his Eye so brown And paused in his lilting Lay. [29] But Ronald had fallen adown, adown, A-swooning in Bliss away! They gathered him up and they bore him home ^ Six proper young Men and tall. He opened one Eye as the Stair they clomb And sighed: "I have seen them all!" They laid him to rest in his downy Bed To comfort his weary Brain; And tender and cool on his fevered Head Was the Hand of his Lady Jane. And long did he fare, in the Realms of Dream, Anew on his Knightly Quest. And long did he ponder the Mighty Theme "Which Car shall be held the Best?" He pondered the Words of the Motor Men, Their Reasons of Pith and Force; He visioned those Glorious Cars, and then He rose and bought a Horse! [30] A TRACT FOR AUTOS COME, all you little Runabouts And gather round my Knee; I ll tell you of a Touring Car As bad as bad could be: It worked its Klaxon overtime To make a Horrid Noise And thought it Fun to muss up Hens And little Girls and Boys. It used to blow its Tires out To hear its Owner swear, And loved to balk on Trolley Tracks To give his Friends a Scare. At last this naughty Touring Car Got drunk on Too Much Oil, And went a-boiling up the Road As hard as it could boil, [31] And went a-plunging, tumbling down A dreadful, dark Ravine; And there it burns and burns and burns In smelly Gasoline! Another little Touring Car Was very, very good; It always minded Brake and Wheel, And never splashed its Hood. It wouldn t skid, nor anger Folks By giving them a Shove, But cooed as gently through its Horn As any Sucking Dove. It never grew Unmannerly To Market-Cart or Dray, But whispered, "Please," and, "Thank you, Sir!" To those that blocked its Way. It never scattered Bolts and Plugs About the Countryside, [32] But did its Level Best to be Its Owner s Joy and Pride. So, when twas Time to yield its Place To Models fresh and new, This lovely little Touring Car Developed Planes and flew! 33 THE TALE OF A DAGHESTAN RUG "Whatever their type of ornamentation may be, a deep and complicated symbolism, originating in Baby lon and possibly India, pervades every denomination of Oriental carpets." SIR GEORGE BIRDWOOD. STRANGE Stones of their Simple Lives Do Oriental Maids and Wives Embroider, so the Dealers tell us, In Symbols on the Rugs they sell us. Then read the Record woven thus By Zillah of the Caucasus, Deciphered by my Friend, Sardjeenian, A Most Reliable Armenian. Among the Hills of Daghestan That frown upon the Wayside Khan, Her Father s Hospitable Villa, The Fairest of her People, Zillah, [34] Composed, with skilful Twist and Tug, An Odjaklik, or Hearthside Rug; Enweaving there in those Queer Symbols That look like Rolling-pins and Thimbles, Her simple Joys and Hopes and Fears, The Story of her Maiden Years. With Entertainment to provide her A Long-tailed Lambkin played beside her And cropped the Mead and quaffed the Stream ;- A Cherished Pet with Fleece of Cream But lately rescued from a Leopard By Kurdish Kar, the Gentle Shepherd. Along the Road from Erivan A Warrior with Yataghan And other Social Incidentals Au fait among the Orientals, [35] In Cutaway Capote arrayed, Approached to woo the Mountain Maid. "My Name," said he, "Resplendent Zillah, Is Ali Abdul Hassan Billah! "I come, perhaps you understand, To beg that Precious Gift, you Hand. "Behold! I faint from Sheer Emotion! Ah, let me prove my Heart s Devotion! "Assign me any Awful Task; I vow to do whatever you ask!" The Maiden lisped: "Your Offer s handsome (I know you re worth a Prince s Ransom); "I may decide to be your Wife, But search me first the Tree of Life "Which blooms through all the Seasons Changes Among our bleak Caucasian Ranges, [36] "And cull for me the Mystic Pear That you will find a-growing there. "But let me warn you, Ardent Stranger, You ll find the Errand full of Danger! "For first you needs must bring to Terms The Three -horned Birds and Hunchbacked Worms "That lurk among the Giant Boulders To prey on Indiscreet Beholders. "Then must you slay a Fiercer yet The wild Constricting Dragonette "That dwells beyond the Andi River. And last, oh, how the Mountains quiver "If he but gives his Tail a Whisk! The dread Tri-cornered Basilisk!" Low bowed the Chief of Haughty Bearing And galloped to the Northward, swearing [37] To battle, conquer, seek and find. (And Kar the Shepherd trudged behind.) Right gallantly adventured AH Through Rugged Pass and Gloomy Valley. His Sword divided into Thirds The Hunchbacked Worms and Three - horned Birds. Against the Serpentine Constrictor He likewise proved a Noble Victor. And then he challenged, brave and brisk, The dread Tri-cornered Basilisk, Which, pausing not to scrutinate him, Unlocked its Grisly Jaws, and ate him! Oh, Fatal Meal! Upon its Side The Poisoned Creature writhed, and died! Now Kar the Shepherd, sadly rueing, Surveyed the Tragic Scene till, viewing [38] The Tree of Life unguarded there, He gathered in the Mystic Pear. Thus, laden down with Fate s Providings, The Precious Fruit and Sorry Tidings, He lifted up his Feet and ran And told the Belle of Daghestan. A Maiden who has lost a Lover Should not too rapidly recover; Still, Ali, that Unlucky Man, Left Widows Five in Erivan; And so the Philosophic Zillah Resignedly remarked, "Bismillah!" And since the Foes of Basilisks Are not the Best Insurance Risks, She vowed no more her Hopes to jeopard And married Kar, the Gentle Shepherd. 4 [39] A PURE MATHEMATICIAN LET Poets chant of Clouds and Things In lonely attics! A Nobler Lot is his, who clings To Mathematics. Sublime he sits, no Worldly Strife His Bosom vexes, Reducing all the Doubts of Life To Y s and X s. And naught to him s a Primrose on The river s border; A Parallelepipedon Is more in order. Let Zealots vow to do and dare And right abuses! He d rather sit at home and square Hypotenuses. [40] Along his straight-ruled paths he goes Contented with em, The only Rhythm that he knows, A Logarithm! THE POEM ON SPRING GREAT AH, the Sultan, I ve heard (Please attend to my proem!), Was shrewd as the serpent aye, Solon to him was a dunce; Who else could repeat every word Of a sermon, a poem, Or any old thing that was spoken before him but once ? While Eben al Hamid, his short Ethiopic attendant And factum factotum, they say could repeat in a trice The plea of a lawyer in court For a guilty defendant, Or President s Message (perhaps), if he heard it but twice. Whenever a bard would intone An original sonnet [42] (For Sultans, you know, are the prey of the metri cal bore), "That s ancient," the Ruler would groan, As Mehitable s bonnet! Now listen, and see for yourself that I ve heard it before." Whereat he would echo each phrase With precision emphatic; And Eben, in turn, would repeat, never missing a rhyme; The poet would slink in a daze To his sorrowful attic, While Eben and Ali would laugh for a week at a time. Then Ali proclaimed in his pride: "For reward I will measure The weight of that poem in gold which is proved to be new." And many a balladist tried For that fistful of treasure; But penniless, puzzled, and shamed every singer withdrew. [43] At length came a minstrel of guile (From the West, so I fear me); He tinkled his merry guitar and addressed him to sing: "Your Highness," quoth he with a smile, "Will it please ye to hear me? I ve something that s Purely Unique tis a Poem on Spring. "A Genuine Triumph of Mind That is urgently needed By seventeen best magazines. Have I leave to begin?" "Proceed," sighed the Sultan, resigned; And the Minstrel proceeded To startle the court with this Chant of Original Sin: " Tis Spring on the lily-white leas Of the Forest of Arden! Tis Spring! and the blossoms appear and the leveret plays; The butterflies drift on the breeze To the elf-haunted garden; The birdies of meadow and grove are rehearsing their lays. [44] " Bo-peep! Hullychee! sings the Flick; Korry-boo! moans the Chitter; Quee-boggle-chee-pilli-moran! sobs the Killi- koloo. * Ping-pong ! Watchi-toodle-kerwick ! All the Merimees twitter. The Niblick avers, Kalli-bosh, taradiddle, koroo. 5 " Go-dum, bally-hoosh P is the note Of the Icthyosaurus. Notorum-dorando ! the blithe Hippocampus re plies; Chim-chim-orizaba-pelote ! Rings the jubilant chorus Of sweet Pterodactyls that wing the cerulean skies. " The Kiddle observes to his mate, Borum-ago-majellum, Elan, rododacktylos bree. While the somnolent Bruff Ascends to the heavenly gate Chanting, Ho! Parabellum Enteuthen " "Help! Stop! Oh, my head!" cried the Sultan; "Enough! [45] "I ve echoed queer words, I admit, All your brotherhood downing; But who could repeat these uncivilized sounds you have made! Your poem should make quite a hit With the students of Browning So bring in your Manuscript, friend, and the gold shall be weighed." The Poet went forth, and returned With his holiday sash on, Propelling a cart with a load of the heaviest brick On which he had graven and burned, Babylonian fashion, The "words" of his poem! a mean, reprehen sible trick! The Sultan, demurring, tis true, Made an end by bestowing The weight of that poem in gold, a prodigious expense. And this have I sung unto you For the purpose of showing That even Spring Poets may manifest hard common sense! [46] TRUE SPRING WHAT, spring, because a day is fair, Because a brook is flowing, Because a maple here and there A flash of red is showing, Because the frost has lost a tooth, And ice-packs jar and splinter? You call it "spring" because, forsooth, It simply isn t winter! No, spring has gladder signs than these; I ll know that spring is coming When lilacs blow, when velvet bees In apple-boughs are humming, When softer shadows fall aslant The fragrant meadow mazes: I ll call it spring when I can plant One foot on seven daisies. [47] AN ADIRONDACK IDYLL TWAS August; all the Verdant Vales With Marigolds were decked; The Groves were loud with Nightingales- Or Birds to That Effect; And Squirrels frolicked High and Low While, from the Waters dim Ambitious Troutlets leaped, to show That they were in the Swim. The Owl observed to Bashful Doves, Too shy to bill and coo, "Now, don t mind me, my Little Loves, Proceed: To wit, to woo." Beneath the Birch, beneath the Spruce, Perchance beneath the Pine, A Maiden walked, a Fair Recluse, The lovely Angeline. [48] The Daughter of a Mountain Guide, She dwelt beside the Mere; An Orphan since her Father died Mistaken for a Deer. So, honoring in Memorie Her Late Pro-gen-i-tor, She idolized the Deer that he Had been Mistaken For. The Pretty Pet she often fed With Caramels or Grass, And Much the Antlered Quadruped Esteemed the Forest Lass. To her upon the Woodland Way With Pleadings New and Strange A Ranger came their Wedding-Day He begged her to Arrange. But, oh! the Scornful Maiden gave Her Answer brief and tart: "My Deer, whom Father died to save, Possesses all my Heart!" [49] A Horrid Oath that Ranger took! (He swore beneath his Breath). "A Rival shall I tamely brook? Morbleu! Carr-rramba! sdeath! "Her Dear ! Gadzooks, I know the Man! That lovelorn Guide shall die!" And home the Ranger stalked, to plan His Crime and Alibi. That Night he watched beside her Cot; The Bushes cracked and swayed; Out rang the Deadly Rifle Shot! Out rushed the Woeful Maid! "Ah, Wasteful Hunter!" rose her Wails, "To slay this Deer of mine, All Out of Season, which entails A Hundred-Dollar Fine!" "Not so, not so, my Love, my Fair," The Ranger straight replied, "For I (as Witnesses shall swear) Mistook him for a Guide! "Since I Mistook him for a Guide, Miss, take me for your Dear!" The Maiden blushed, the Maiden sighed, The Maiden deigned to hear. And when upon the Pair the Priest Had said his Ben-i-son, I grieve to say, their Wedding Feast Was mainly Ven-i-son! [51] A BUNGALOW BY all the winds of Summer-time! I ll seek the nymph again Who wakes the grass between the stones to move the hearts of men, Who blows a playful kiss or two of dandelion- down, And sends the gipsy butterfly to lure a lad from town. I m going to build a bungalow, A bing-bang bungalow, A creeper-curtained bungalow, where hemlocks idly dream. Fm going to build a bungalow, A bing-bang .bungalow, A cedar-shingled bungalow beside a mountain stream. The beams shall be of maple wood, the floors of healthful pine; [5*1 The spruce, with rough and resined bark, shall wall this house of mine; While round about, of ample breadth, a rustic porch shall run Below a birchen canopy against the checkered sun. I m going to build a bungalow, A bing-bang bungalow, A forest-fragrant bungalow with room for three or four. I m going to build a bungalow, A bing-bang bungalow, A zephyr-haunted bungalow beside a rippled shore. With every quick-eyed featherling that loves the friendly wood, With all the gentle furry folk I ll dwell in brother hood. My castle roof shall bear the proof of crystal- arrowed rain, And Peace shall be my seneschal, and Love my chatelaine. I m going to build a bungalow, A bing-bang bungalow, [53] An open-hearted bungalow devoid of bolts and bars. I m going to build a bungalow, A bing-bang bungalow, A tranquil little bungalow to rest beneath the stars. [54] DORLAN S HOME-WALK THE ninth; last half; the score was tied, The Hour was big with Fate, For Neal had fanned and Kling had flied When Dorian toed the plate. And every rooter drew a breath And rose from where he sat, For Weal or Woe, or Life or Death Now hung on Dorian s bat. The Pitcher scowled; the Pitcher flung An inshoot, swift and queer; But Dorian whirled his wagon-tongue And smote the leathern sphere. He smote the ball with might and main, He drove it long and low, And firstward like a railway train He sped to beat the throw. 5 [SSl He reached first base with time to spare (The throw went high and wide), But what a tumult rent the air When "Safe!" the Umpire cried. "What!" shrieked the Pitcher, lean and tall, "What!" roared the Catcher stout, "Wha-at!" yelled the Basemen one and all, "Ye re off! the man is out!" The Shortstop swore, the Catcher pled, They waved their arms around. The Umpire shook his bullet-head And sternly held his ground, Though in the wild-eyed Fielders ran To tear him limb from limb Or else to tell that erring man Just what they thought of him. The Basemen left the bases clear And came to urge their case; So Dorian yawned and scratched his ear And strolled to second base. [56] "Safe? Safe?" the Pitcher hissed, "Ye re blind!" And breathed a Naughty Word; While Dorian hitched his belt behind And rambled on to third. And throats were hoarse and words ran high And lips were flecked with foam, As Dorian scanned the azure sky And ambled on toward home. And still he heard in dreamy bliss, As down the line he came, The Umpire growl, "Enough o this! He s safe. Now play the game!" "All right. Come, boys," the Pitcher bawled; "Two out; now make it three!" When Dorian touched the plate and drawled, "Hey! score that run fer me!" What wrath was there, what bitter talk, What joy and wild acclaim! For Dorian s peaceful homeward walk Had won the doubtful game. [57] Aye, thus the game was lost and won; So, Athletes, great and small, If like mischance ye fain would shun Keep cool, don t kick, play ball. [58] BASEBALL IN DE PARK THE Captain of the Neversweats was rooted in his place, One foot upon the tattered coat that served for second base; His ashen-hued habiliments were padded, hip and knee (The Captain of the Neversweats was all of three- foot-three) ; A mighty mitt incased his paw; he spat upon the same And chirped, with shouted interludes, the Story of the Game: Twas Sattid y, a week ago, we played de Busy Bees; Dey rung a borrered pitcher in, an say! he wuz de cheese! De way he handed pretzels out wuz putty near a crime; [59] He chucked dis curly inshoot-drop dat fools ye ev ry time. He d held us down to forty hits, an* t ings wuz lookin blue, Fer dey had fifty-seven runs, while we had t irty- two. He d held us down to forty hits, an* runs wuz mighty rare; But in de nint we sized im up an* pasted im fer fair. "Foist, Dumpy Collins found his coives an* knocked a corkin fly; Den Limpy picked a cracker jack an smashed it in de eye; Den Skeezicks hit de ball a swipe dat lifted off de lid; An* Carrots ran de bags fer home, an* cricky! how he slid! Dem Bees wuz stiffs! dey couldn t t row, dey couldn t ketch at all, While we wuz playin fer our lives we couldn t miss de ball. [60] "An did we win? Well, did we! Say! Dey didn t git a smell. We chased each udder roun de bags twuz like de carrousel. Why, w en we put de las man out an added up de score Dey hadn t only eighty runs, an we had ninety- four! What! Lick dese lobsters? Sure we kin, at any time o year! Jes watch; we ll show ye how it s done. Hi, Cully! put er here!" [61] A NEW MEXICAN BO-PEEP NEAR the Llano Estacado Famed for deeds of wild bravado, Winsome Maraquita Fancher, Orphan child of Bill the rancher, Led her flock of frisky muttons, Fed the pretty woolly gluttons Lamb and wether, ewe and chilver, 1 Clothed in fleeces bright as silver. There she rambled, much respected, Free as air and well protected By her ram, a big Merino, Widely known as "Filippino." ^irst appearance of the only rhyme for " silver " in cap tivity 1 [62] Wise he was; the world had schooled him; Human nature "never fooled him. Maraquita, most acutely, Took his judgments ab-so-lutely. Cesar Gil, a swart vaquero, Quite the gallant caballero (Though his legs were slightly bandy), Rode across the Rio Grande, Came a-courting Maraquita, Praising her as "muy bonita!" Humbly bowing, sweetly sighing False, false vows of love undying. Filippino left his grazing, Turned and viewed the scene amazing; Charged! and, headlong hurtling, fairly Met the Issue full and squarely. Cesar Gil, the dusky dandy, Soared across the Rio Grande, Rolling resonant " carr-rrambas !" Still pursued by mocking lamb-baas. So it chanced with other wooers (False deceivers, base pursuers) Claude Dulane the turquoise-digger, Faro Pete the thimble-rigger, Denbigh Booth the tragic mummer, Curtis Sharpe the hardware drummer, Ellis Farnham Walsh of Reno, Came and fled from Filippino. Now appeared a Handsome Stranger, Rollo Jones, the Texas Ranger^ Bringing lots of love a heartful! Brave and true, but gently artful. First he talked to Filippino, Talked of poker, whist, and keno, Cattle, crime, and politicians, Calming down the Ram s suspicions. 4 Next, as though to serenade him, Lively, tuneful airs he played him, Ragtime lilt and light fandango; Showed him how they dance the tango. Then he brought, with perfect breeding, Little gifts of dainty feeding (Since the grass was growing sparsely) Carrots, turnips, beets, and parsley. Thus the Ranger, true and clever, Made that Ram his friend for ever. Well, the rest was bound to follow: Filippino, leading Rollo, Trotted up to Maraquita. Jones now calls her "mi lindita" Or he did, as I remember, When I saw them, last November, Eating prime Thanksgiving turkey At their home in Albuquerque. [66] THE MEXICAN HAMMOCK TWAS richly vermilion and flagrantly yellow When brought from the region of sunlit plateaus, But, softened by service and restfully mellow, It swings in the grove where the rivulet flows. Its ring-bolts are tarnished, its spreaders unvar nished; It sags at an angle of forty degrees; With reedles of balsam its meshes are garnished The Mexican Hammock that hangs from the trees. The Mexican Hammock, The grass-woven Hammock, The trusty old Hammock That droops from the trees. When, sick of the city s perpetual riot, I come for the healing that Silence bestows, Overshadowed by green-tasseled curtains of quiet, It offers a bounteous depth of repose. So softly allaying and balmily swaying, It woos with its motion the health-laden breeze That soon down the River of Dreams I am stray ing, Adrift in the Hammock that hangs from the trees. The Mexican Hammock, The grass-woven Hammock, The friendly old Hammock That droops from the trees. Now crickets are hymning the Night for her guerdon; The dewdrops have solaced the half-opened rose. How deeply it bends with a generous burden! How sweet are the secrets that nobody knows! The words that reveal them, the tokens that seal them, The whispers more soft than the murmur of bees [68] The bird? shall not learn them, the winds may not steal them Away from the Hammock that hangs from the trees. The crafty old Hammock, The blessed old Hammock, The match-making Hammock That droops from the trees. A LAY OF MASSACHUSETTS BAY THE world went well; the heavens smiled, com placent, On Massachusetts Bay and parts adjacent; The Savages, arrayed in skins of beavers, Had been removed by providential fevers; The fields were flourishing, and e en the bearish Allowed that trade and fisheries were fairish; The Williamses, the Hutchinsons, the Quakers And other contumacious trouble-makers, Convinced by potent arguments, had vanished (Imprisoned, whipped at cart-tail, hanged or banished), When Parson Bondish, strong in exhortation, Arose to edify the congregation, [70] Beginning (not in total self-effacement) With some few words of personal abasement. "Dear Brothers/ quoth the Preacher, "in all meekness I come, a child of wrath and sin and weakness " "Amen! that s true!" intoned a rash invader, Defiance Cock, the surly Indian trader. "Yea, here I stand," resumed the scowling Preacher, "A Thing of Naught, a miserable creature " "Aye," growled the Trader, "ye were born and bred so; Tis true as Gospel even if ye said so." "A Worm am I!" the Parson thundered, banging His oaken desk "A Wretch too bad for hanging!" "Correct," cried Cock, despite impending fury, "As I will gladly prove before a jury." 6 [71] Good Bondish clenched both fists; a stout crusader, He braved Defiance Cock, the Indian trader. "When I," he blared, "self-humbled, would have cleared me Of Pride of Flesh, thou venturest to beard me? "I own my faults, I hope to rise above them But no one else shall dare to tell me of them!" Whereat, the Parson rapidly descended And then and there the controversy ended, Stern Bondish preaching hours, unrelenting, At Cock within the pillory, repenting. And this is why I dare not tell my story For Boston might not think it laudatory; And why I ll ever strive to be complacent Toward Massachusetts Bay and parts adjacent. THE PILGRIMS THANKSGIVING FEAST THE Pilgrims landed, worthy men, And, saved from wreck on raging seas, They fell upon their knees, and then Upon the Aborigines. In thankfulness they planned a feast On all the country might afford. (The grace consumed an hour at least, Whence rose the phrase, "The festive bored.") And some through groves of pine and oak Pursued the doe; and even so All patriotic Yankee folk Unceasingly pursue the dough. They bearded bruin in his lair Or stalked the stag in forests drear. Alas! their festal dish was bear, Or venison though that was deer. [73] Still, native viands pleased them most The native maize, for that was new; They ate the native boiled and roast And even ate the native stew! (74 THE WISHBONE ANOTHER fowl had gone the way That turkeys go, Thanksgiving Day; In ruins lay the pumpkin pie, The foaming cider-jug was dry. The merry guests had left their chairs, The old in groups, the young in pairs, And Mark and Prue (if one might look) Were safe within the ingle-nook. And Mark and Prue agreed to break A wishbone, just for friendship s sake A wishbone, smooth and polished bright As best befits the magic rite. Each wished a wish in undertone; With thumbs close-pressed they snapped the bone [751 And none but Mark heard Prudence laugh Because she held the larger half; And only Prudence knew how dark And hopeless grew the face of Mark. "Why, Mark!" cried Prue; "since Time began Who ever saw a six-foot man "Become so glum and vaporish Because he d lost a silly wish!" "Yes, laugh!" groaned Mark, "for you have won I Pve lost all joy beneath the sun "And all the hope I had in life I wished that Prue should be my wife." She frowned, and then she smiled instead, And then she tossed her curly head And laughed outright, that shameless Prue, "Oh, never mind! I wished that, too!" [76] A TRUE BILL AGAYNST CHRISTMASSE I WILL not hear of Christmasse Cheer Nor Christmasse Bells a-ringing! A Christmasse Tree I loathe to see, I m deaf to Carol-singing. I will not troll ye Wassail Bowl! I love no strong Potations, Nor Yule that brings ye Gatherings Of Nondescript Relations. Forbeare to show ye Mistletoe! All Proper Men disdain it; Ye Prettie Maid wolde scorn its Aid, Ye Plaine One sholde not gain it. Give Pause, give Pause to Santa Claus! His Course is trulie shocking; I understand he has a Hande In Everybodie s Stocking! [77] Yet, void of Shame, they praise his Name In Reams of idle Verses, And call him kind that leaves behind A Trail of emptie Purses. Sharp Sorrows lie in Christmasse Pie Which treble when they heat it. I have no Use for Christmasse Goose Nor Cannibals that eat it. For Ills and Pills and Doctor s Bills Are scarce a Cause for Laughter; Ye Tables groan before ye Feaste, Ye Feasters groan thereafter. THE STOCKING I SING of Pieter Dundervelt In quaint New Amsterdam who dwelt And loved a maid in beauty s bloom Annette DeVries von Schlagenboom. Like all true lovers, more or less. Our Piet inclined to bashfulness, And when he should have pressed his suit Was silent, speechless, dumb, and mute. Twas drawing near that night of nights When good Saint Nicholas delights To ride with gifts for old and young, When backward Pieter found his tongue. Oh, will you deign, Annette," said he, To take a Yuletide gift from me?" [79] Annette, without a thought of ill, Replied, in Dutch, "Of course I will!" Saint Nicholas with reindeer sleigh Had made his rounds and gone his way, And fair Annette, while others slept, On tiptoe down the stairway crept Before the dawn, her only thought To see what gifts the Saint had brought. And there a marvel met her eyes! A stocking, not of common size, But six feet long and even more Now hung where hers had hung before, Beneath the kitchen mantel-shelf, And snug within was Piet himself! The situation seemed absurd; Annette, however, kept her word; That is, to make the tale complete, She took her gift and married Piet. [80] A BRIDGE SCANDAL UPON the table s cloth of green The Trey of Diamonds lay; It lured the Knave; he loved the Queen; For her he took the Trey. To him the Queen "of Diamonds said, "Make haste, my darling Jack, And fly with me!" And off they fled In spite of all the Pack. The King pursued; alert and quick, He slew them with his mace! And that s the way he turned the Trick, For no one held the Ace! [81] HENRY HUDSON S LOG WEE anchored safe in Fathoms four Within a Baye, and did espie A pleasaunt, many-peopled Shore With Lodges most amazing hie, From where some Natives, partlie tamed, Did come in Shallops nine or ten To make us Speeches these were named "Ye Sons-in-Lawe of Famous Men." Ashore wee went, and soon a Band Appeared, bedecked with Silver Starres, Which called themselves, I understand, "Ye Sons of Them Which Fitt in Warres." Another Tribe did entertaine Our Tars at Meat within an Halle, And they were hight, "Ye Noble Straine Of Them Which Came Here First of Alle!" [82! Their Womankind in Bevies Twain Did make us Cheere with Daunce and Song, But eyther Group in hie Disdain Did scorn ye other Lovelie Throng; Yea, each called other, " Sycophants " And "Upstarte Crewe!" Their Rightful Names Were "Nieces of Ancestral Aunts," And "Daughters of Maternal Dames." Ye "Sons of Irish Pioneers," Ye "Native Sons of Foreign Kynges," Ye "Sons of Hessian Grenadiers," And Sundrie Sons of Other Thynges About us raised a Goodlie Stir. A Modest Folk they seemed to mee, More Vaine of what their Fathers were Than Proud of what theirselves might bee. Yet more were there too Low to wear Grand Coats-of-Arms or courtlie Masks An Hoste which found no Time to spare But stronglie toiled at many Tasks. [83] I craved of One of Sturdie Mold, "What Sons bee ye?" With Merrie Face, "No Sons !" he cried; "in us behold Ye Fathers of ye Coming Race!" [84] WHITE MAGIC WHEN tree-toads trill and crickets chirr And all the marshlands faintly ring, A Goblin flits through plumes of fir Upon the wood-owl s velvet wing; He fills with fern-seed, brown and dry, His acorn pipe; when winds are whist He lights it with a fire-fly And hillward blows the evening mist. A PERSIAN APOLOGUE To Hakim Ali, famed for potent pills, Old Hassan came to tell his body s ills Began the Patient: "First, O Hakim wise, I note a certain dimness of the eyes " "A trifle!" laughed the Doctor; "I ll engage Tis merely a Concomitant of Age." "Besides," groaned Hassan, "as it seems to me, My hearing is not all it used to be." "Some little touch of deafness," quoth the Sage, "Is likewise a Concomitant of Age." "But," quavered Hassan, "Doctor, is it right That Wakefulness should worry me at night?" "Quite natural," said Ali, "at this stage; A usual Concomitant of Age." [861 Then Hassan stormed: "Oh, quack, impostor, dolt, With no more learning than my donkey s colt! "I tell my griefs, and, like a parrot gray, Concomitant of Age* is all you say!" "Ah!" smiled the Doctor; "sudden, causeless rage Is likewise a Concomitant of Age." TACT THE Sultan was vexed by a dream that invaded his slumbers; (He d feasted on lobsters and cream with half-ripened cucumbers And slept with his head to the South, so the Night Mare had power.) He dreamed, all the teeth of his mouth tumbled out in a shower! So, calling a Sayer of Sooth to interpret the vision, He charged him to utter the truth with the utmost precision. "Pure Fountain of Justice, and Fear of the Infidel Foemen, The vision," propounded the Seer, "is of sorrowful omen; [88] For Allah, who governs this ball (His protection be o er you!), Decrees that your relatives all shall drop dead, right before you!" The Sultan leaped up in a fit of devouring fury! He stayed not to issue a writ or impanel a jury, But "Shorten this fellow !" he said, "and be rapid about it!" So off went the Soothsayer s head! (He looked better without it.) One Sage being worthless, they sent to the mosque for another; An Augur of wilier bent than his ill-fortuned brother. "Now Allah be praised for the boon!" cried this wisest of mages; "Great Lord of the Sun and the Moon! for the vision presages Long life to the King, who shall thrive like the fertile plantations! Yea, truly! my Liege shall survive e en his youngest relations!" The King, as his visage expressed, was rejoiced beyond measure. The Prophet went home with a chest fairly bursting with treasure. Which proves tis an axiom still, let the Blunt-spoken weigh it- The Tactful can say what he will, for he knows how to say it! [90] FAME "GREAT king," the poet cried, his rebec stringing, "Thy name shall live forever through my sing ing!" "Poor fool," the king replied, "that lie is hoary; Thy songs may live because they chant my glory!" So each, the sword or lyre glorifying, In turn proclaimed his work alone undying; And while their wordy warfare shook the rafter, Old Time stood by and held his sides for laughter! LOGIC THE Farmer was swinging his scythe with a will, His Donkey was turning the primitive mill; The Learned Logician of Lalli-Bazan Stood watching the labors of Donkey and Man. "My friend," quoth the Solver of Tangled Affairs, "What use is the bell that your Animal wears?" "Why," answered the Farmer, "it tells on the Brute; It rings while he moves, when he stops it is mute; "And so, though I m acres away at my work, I ll know if the gray-coated Scamp is a shirk." "Right well!" cried the Sage; "but supposing, in stead Of working, your Donkey just waggled his head: [92] "The bell would still ring like a steeple possessed, Yet how would you know he was taking a rest?" The Farmer looked hard at the Sage (it appears Suspecting the length of his logical ears), Then answered him, giving his Servant a slap, " This Donkey has never learned Logic! Gid-dap!" 93 A HINDU RIDDLE "WHAT fruit is good to taste when green, And sweet when half-matured by Time, Yet harsh when ripe? Declare, O Sage!" "That fruit is Human Life, I ween: So rich in Youth; in Manhood s prime More mellow still but dry in Age!" [94] THE IRREVERENT BRAHMIN A HINDU TRACT A BRAHMIN, fat and debonair, Denied the Potency of Prayer! "Absurd!" he scoffed, "to say that Gods At ease on high would stoop to Clods "And heed our million warring Prayers To regulate our small Affairs!" This Dogmatist of early days Was lost within a jungle s maze, Where, wildly ranging wide about To find a pathway leading out, Upon a Forest Codling s Shrine He chanced, o erhung with leaf and vine, [95] And wonder! horror! crouching there A mighty Tiger, bowed in prayer! (Tail curled, as may be well supposed, Paws folded, eyes devoutly closed). "Strong God," he heard the Tiger say, "I pray thee, send to me a Prey!" The trustful Tiger closed his Prayer. Behold! a Brahmin trembling there! The Brahmin never scoffed a whit. The Prayer had Answer #<? was It. [961 BREAD (FROM THE HINDUSTANI) FOR Bread the Merchant labors long and late. For Bread the Beggar goes from gate to gate. For Bread the Sailor loses hearth and home; A thousand miles away, Bread-seekers roam. For Bread the Wild Birds fall in nets and gins. For Bread do Men commit a thousand sins. For Bread the Soldier dies in siege or fray. For Bread the Minstrel carols, night and day. For Bread Men study all that Man may know. The House that wanteth Bread is filled with Woe. Tis Bread unites the Family as one; Its lack divides the Father from the Son. For Bread are Weddings made and Sermons said; Of all good things, the very best is Bread. [97] THE STONE S JOKE ON Guernsey s Island, huge, alone, Before a cavern lay a Stone; Upon its surface carved, a screed In characters that none could read. At length a Stranger climbed the cliff, A Sage, in rune and hieroglyph Well schooled. He bent his learned head Above the Stone, and thus he read: "Come, turn me, turn me, Man of Might, And see what now is hid from sight!" They came with lever, jack, and chain; They heaved and hauled with might and main; They plied the mass with rope and crow To find the Treasure hid below. [98] The great Stone turned. Its mottled, pied And soil-discolored under side Another runic legend bore; And thus the Scholar read once more: "O Gentle Friend, for many a year On one poor side I ve languished here "And begged the boon for which I ve yearned That some one turn me. Thanks. I m turned." [99] THE BEST AND WORST NAIL IN THE ARK Now this is the story (and all of ye hark!) Of what was the Best and Worst Nail in the Ark: When Noah was building this Ark, as ye know, A rumble of thunder surprised him, and so To have the boat ready in time for the rain He took on a Wright of. the Children of Cain A terrible sinner, like all of the rest, And still, as a Carpenter, one of the best. This Person was hammering hard at the stem When up strolls the Patriarch, Japheth, and Shem; And what does that impudent Carpenter do But ask to be taken as one of the crew. Sez he, "I am wishful to sail in yer boat Along with yer Elephant, Camel, and Goat." But Noah he answers him, "None of yer jokes! Ye ll stay in the wet with the rest of yer folks!" [100] The Carpenter grinned and the Carpenter laughed; He watched till the Party was all of them aft, Then screwed up one eyebrow and twisted his lip And pulled a big nail from the bow of the Ship! He pulled out a Nail, did that Offspring of Sin, Which left a fine hole for the tide to creep in. Now, up comes the Animals, marching in pairs, And with them the Devil sneaks in unawares, They say with the Mule, for she hadn t a mate, And hides in the hold with the rest of the freight. But whist! when the waters were boiling around And rocking the Ark from her place on the ground, Old Noah stood up while the elements roared And asked a strong Blessing on all things aboard. Now Blessings, for cause that I needn t explain, Are what the old Devil can t hear without pain; And so the poor Devil tore wildly about Prospecting in vain for a place to get out, When what should he spy, when of reason bereft, But that one fine hole that the Carpenter left! [101] He altered his form to the shape of a Worm And right through that nail-hole he tried for to squirm; But, talk as they do of the Devil s own luck, As tight as a rivet the poor Devil stuck! He stuck and he stayed for the whole of the trip Excluding the wet from the hold of the Ship. The waters might heave and the waters might roll, But still the poor Devil kept plugging that hole And saving them all from the wave and the shark, So he was the Best and Worst Nail in the Ark! [102] WHAT THE DEVIL SAID TO NOAH THE world was badly scared; The very heavens trembled; The Ark was all prepared, The beasts were all assembled And driven safe within By Noah s sons and daughters, When lo! the Lord of Sin Appeared upon the waters; A gallant privateer, He sailed a Malay proa: "I think it s gwine to clear!" The Devil said to Noah. We know that things are wrong, We strive to make them better; Perhaps I write a song, Perhaps you write a letter, Perhaps we work like men To push a worthy movement 8 [ 103 ] When up he pops again, That Foe to All Improvement, And, smiling on the Deer (But winking at the Boa) "Aw, shucks! it s gwine to clear!" The Devil coos to Noah. 104] MIDNIGHT ALPHABET A is the Amiable Actress, The lobster-cafe s benefactress. B is the Bibulous Bounder Who likes to be classed as a rounder. C is the Curious Corkscrew The favorite tool of New York s crew. D is the Diligent Driver Who will not take less than a fiver. E is the Erring Elmiran About to be fleeced by a siren. F is the Fellow from Corning Who will not go home until morning. G is the Gimlet-eyed Gambler In wait for the night-blooming rambler. [105] H is the Hefty Housebreaker Disguised as a peaceable Quaker. I is the igh-C Italian, With hair a la Richard Le Gallienne; J is the Jollification His boosters will term "an Ovation." K is a Kelt from Killarney Who borrows a dollar on blarney. L is the Lantern-jawed Loafer Whom Croesus addresses as "Shoafer!" M is the Moonbeam so Mellow That shines on the girl and her fellow. N is the Nebulous Night-time By true lovers hailed as the right time. O is the One Osculation That earns them the prude s reprobation. [106! P is the Penitent s Pillow That feels like a hot armadillo; Q is his Querulous Query, "Oh, why did I gamble in Erie?" R is the Rabid Reporter Whose story was edited shorter. S is the Sinful Suggestion That slumber is out of the question. T s for the Turbulent Taxis That swiftly rotate on their axes. U is the Uniformed Usher Ejecting the lingering lusher. V is the Voice of the Victim Condemning the caitiff who kicked him. W stands for the White Way The Tight Way, yet scarce the Polite Way. X is the sum that Xpresses The fine for Xtatic Xcesses. Y is the Yelling of Yellows By newsboys with lungs that are bellows. Z is the Zebra so frisky Evoked by libations of whisky. [108 MAINLY FEMININE THIS IS SHE ON order that must be obeyed I sing of a dear little maid; A mirthfully serious, Sober, delirious, Gently imperious Maid. And first we ll consider her eyes (Alike as to color and size); Her winkable, blinkable, Merrily twinkable, Simply unthinkable Eyes. Then, having a moment to spare, We turn our attention to hair; Her tendrilly-curlative, Tumbly-and-whirlative, Super-superlative Hair. [ml Forbear to dismiss with a shrug Her nose, undeniably pug; Her strictly permissible, Turn-up-like-thisable, Urgently kissable Pug. Now, moving a point to the south, We come to an Actual Mouth; A coral, pearliferous, Argumentiferous, Mainly melliferous Mouth. Observe, underneath it, a chin, Connoting the dimple within; A steady, reliable, Hardly defiable, True, undeniable Chin. By all that is fair! it appears We d almost forgotten her ears! [H2] Those never neglectable, Tinted, delectable, Highly respectable Ears! And last let us speak of herself, That blithe little gipsy and elf, Her quite unignorable, Absence-deplorable, Wholly adorable Self. THE LASSES O LINTON THE lasses o Linton ha flocked to the fair, Wi gowd on their bosoms an silk in their hair, Wi ribbons an laces sae winsomely drest, An each in the color that fits her the best. There s Meg, the fause jilt! wi her eyes on the groun Ye ll ne er fin a heart neath the corn-yellow gown. While Maisie, whose Robin proves faithless, puir lass! Comes clad in a kirtle as green as the grass. But Jeanie, my Jeanie, beloved an true, S all never wear aught save the heaven s ain blue; "For green is forsaken, an yellow s forsworn, But blue is the bonniest color that s worn." FASHION FAIR Eve devised a walking-suit Of jungle grasses, soft and crimpy; She thought it rather neat and cute Till Adam grunted, "Pretty skimpy!" A cloak of palm-leaves, sought for miles, She made, and came to be admired; But Adam said, "The silly styles You women wear just make me tired!" She built herself a little hat Of lilies (Eve was very clever), And asked him what he thought of that? And Adam blurted, "Well, I never!" So next she placed upon her head A feathered three-by-four Creation. The little word that Adam said Is barred from parlor conversation. [US) Yet Eve refused to be a dowd, And tied an autumn-tinted sash on. "I ll dress to please myself!" she vowed, "For what does Adam know of fashion? "What use to seek applause from him? He scoffs and says I cannot reason! Well, then, my law shall be my whim And that shall change with every season." Since when, revolving cycles bring The gayest fashions and the queerest; And Eve declares, "It s just the thing!" While Adam murmurs, "Is it, dearest?" [n6J THE WIND MAIDEN HER lips, like roses empearled, Gave forth a rill of laughter; She brought the joy of the world Of this and that hereafter. So free that magical art Alone would serve to bind her, She danced right into my heart And locked the door behind her! A SKETCH FROM THE LIFE ITS eyes are gray; Its hair is either brown Or black; And, strange to say, Its dresses button down The back! It wears a plume That loves to frisk around My ear. It crowds the room With cushions in a mound And queer Old rugs and lamps In corners a la Turque And things. It steals my stamps, And when I want to work It sings! It rides and skates But then it comes and fills My walls With plaques and plates And keeps me paying bills And calls. It s firm; and if I should my many woes Deplore, Twould only sniff And perk its little nose Some more. It s bright, though small; Its name, you may have guessed, Is "Wife." But, after all, It gives a wondrous zest To life! 119] A WHOLE DAY! FIVE hundred thousand leagues, I guess, Our weary Earth has bowled through space; And fifty thousand miles, no less, The pallid Moon has held her race; The careful Clock has ticked away Full eighty thousand moments drear; So long has been the lagging Day Since last I saw you, Vida dear! [120] ONE FEATHER HER sister brought the wife a feather A curled, Parisian thing of beauty (And Uncle Sam may answer whether He did or did not get the duty). The feather had to have a hat To wreathe itself upon, I take it; For twenty dollars (cheap at that!) Madame O Malley deigned to make it. So fine a hat is simply lost Without a proper coat below it. The coat, with all its fixings, cost Say, ninety more at least I owe it. The coat was scarcely warm enough (A stylish cloth is rarely weighty); But, after all, the stole and muff Were hardly very dear at eighty. [121] And then a gown and shoes and things Here! add the bills, ye household scholars! That little feather plumed the wings Of pretty near three hundred dollars! A straw may break the camel s back; How might a feather overtax him! I never knew before, alack, The truth within that shop-worn maxim! Yet, oh, for all this traitor writes, The wealth of all the stores together Was never worth one smile that lights The dimpling face beneath the feather! 122] THE COUNTRY DANCE TREAD of the thistledown Lighting on heather, Curls in a dancing crown Bursting their tether, Laugh of a bobolink Swaying on rushes, Breath of the meadow-pink Born of her blushes, Free as a swallow dips, Moving to viol-tones, Over the mead she trips, Men s hearts her stepping-stones. THE ORGAN-GRINDER LADY AND THE SCISSORS-GRINDER MAN HER cheeks were Roman roses, and her deep, Italian eyes Were dark as limpid Como when the moon be gins to rise; A crimson kerchief crowned the silken midnight of her hair; Her buxom little bodice was a heart-alluring snare; A laughing little, daffing little, merry gipsy queen, She challenged forth your pennies with her tin kling tambourine. What pocketbook resisted when her organ sang the woe Of Marguerite or Lucia, or the fun of Figaro! What pulse but leaped the faster at the strains of "Pinafore" And swinging, Old World waltzes that the ball room hears no more! [124] So, hailed by children s laughter and the pat of childish feet, The Organ-Grinder Lady came in music down the street. With trundle-wheel and trumpet and the clamor of his clan, Along the flinty pavement came the Scissors- Grinder Man, A yellow-headed laddie, and his cheeks were as the wine, His eyes as blue and dancing as the water of the Rhine. He trolled a Saxon ballad as he ground the shear ing steel, Delighting gaping urchins with the sparkles of the wheel; And pleasantly and mirthfully he bobbed his head, to greet The Organ-Grinder Lady as she halted in the street; Then, since there s lack of honesty in being over- prim, That Organ-Grinder Lady nodded blithely back at him. He set his wheel a-humming, by the way of sere nade; She let her organ answer and the "Wedding March" it played! Belike a roll of magic ran around the music-reel; Perchance the dainty bodice caught a sparkle from the wheel; For, when the streets were twinkling with the lights of eventide, The organ and the trundle-wheel rolled slowly, side by side, Until, along the river where the great ships come to land, The Lady and the Laddie watched the starlight, hand in hand. And now in wedding-jacket and a black and scarlet gown, They trudge their rounds together through the mazes of the town. She makes his toil the lighter with the organ s mellow peal; He makes the street the brighter with the sparkles of the wheel; [!26] And thus they give each other and their world the best they can The Organ-Grinder Lady and the Scissors-Grinder Man. A GREEK SONG IT was not I that dared betray What none should know but you and me; The moon beheld from heaven s way And told the tale to all the sea. The ripples laughed in elvish joy And told the oar-blade, water-pearled; The oar-blade told the fisher-boy, Who sang our love to all the world! THE GROCERY BOY Now what should I do when the Grocery Boy Is knockin an* whistlin an 5 calling "Ahoy!" An me with both hands of me covered with suds A-cleanin the panes in me oldest of duds! " Come down !" sez he, laughin . Sez I, " Ye can wait ! An* what are ye meanin by comin so late?" "Ah, come!" sez he, coaxin ; "I tell ye no lies, But all the pertaties have tears in their eyes Because of the coldness of maids in these parts. The onions are breakin* their poor little hearts; The beans an the leeks an the parsley are green With longin for some one ye know whom I mean; An see the young radishes blushin all red, An look how the cabbage is hangin its head! Then don t ye be haughty an don t ye be cruel, But open the gate, now, an take them, me jewel!" Now what would ye do with a saucy young limb Of a Grocery Boy that can blarney like him? A SONG FOR SILVIUS THE Pleiads are six and the planets are eight, But one little star is the Pole of my fate. Five continents broaden and seven seas foam, But only one spot in creation is Home. The Graces are three, while the Muses are nine; There s only one Phoebe, and Phoebe is mine! THE PASSIONATE SUBURBANITE TO HIS LOVE COMMUTE with me, Love, and be merry; How vain in the City to dwell When apple-trees blow in Dobbs Ferry And lilacs adorn New Rochelle! White Plains is the Garden of Allah And Pelham s the Pearl of the Sea; There s bliss in the name of Valhalla Oh, fly to the Suburbs with me! Then won t you commute on my family ticket? To Westchester County we ll flee. Delightful Westchester, What place is sequester! Oh, won t you commute, Love, with me? I ll pluck you the earliest crocus In Orange or Englewood fair; We ll sport on the meads of Hohokus, We ll ramble through Cultured Montclair; [131] We ll rest in Exclusive Tuxedo, Or Nutley, for artists renowned, And still shall I carol my credo, "The Suburbs are Paradise Found." Then won t you commute on my family ticket? Perhaps you prefer New Jersee , For who could grow weary Of life on the Erie! Then won t you commute, Love, with me? The Isle twixt the Sound and the Ocean Ah, has it no Message for you? I cannot but think with emotion Of Flushing, Jamaica, and Kew, Of Bayshore of youthful vacations, Of Little Neck, Great Neck, and Quogue And all of the other Clam Stations Including Speonk and Patchogue. Then come take a trip on my family ticket Where Long Island breezes blow free. To live on the Subway Is surely a dub way, Then fly to the Suburbs with me! OUR SUBURB OUR Garden Spot is always bright and pretty (Of course it s rather soggy when it rains), And only thirty minutes from the city (Of course you have to catch the proper trains). We re through with Grasping Landlords, rents, and leases (Of course there s still a mortgage debt to pay). At last we know what True Domestic Peace is (Of course you can t compel a cook to stay). Our Little Home is always nice and cozy (Of course the furnace needs a lot of care). The country keeps the children fresh and rosy (Of course the schools are only middling fair). The Country Club is glorious on Sunday (Of course it s overcrowded now and then). We see a play on Broadway every Monday (Of course we have to leave at half past ten). It s lovely having grass and trees and flowers (Of course, at times, mosquitoes are a pest), Yes, life is life out here in Rangeley Towers (Of course Some People like the city best)! [134] LOVERS LANE IT goes beneath a checkered arch Of leaf and sunlight, oak and larch; Athwart a mead of meadow-sweet, A field of lily-bordered wheat; Through groves of bridal birch it turns, And mossy hollows, deep in ferns; Then up a hill and down a glen, From Nowhere out and back again; And many feet have worn it plain That errant way of Lovers Lane. There, unafraid, the wood-folk play; There wanton briers dip and sway To catch and keep whatever comes And make much work for clumsy thumbs Of loosing tress and lacing shoe Such tasks as lovers love to do. Of tales there told with eye or tongue I need not tell if ye were young 10 [135] Nor yet of castles reared in Spain By architects of Lovers Lane. If Lovers Lane ye wander through, That roadway s rule is "two by two," Although the path is wondrous strait; For here s a hedge, and there s a gate, A brook, a stile, a quaking moss, The strong must help the weak to cross; Then, deep in shade ere set of sun, Its dells are never safe for one Still (must the sorry truth be known?) In Lovers Lane I walk alone! TWIST-RHYME ON WOMEN SOME women walk in hobble skirts While others sew and cobble shirts. Equipped with pan for cake, and book, The prudent learn to bake and cook; Though many, seaward hurling care, Devote their time to curling hair. Yet all, though coyly seeming chill, For simple youths are scheming ill; With every eye-glance mangling ten, They weave their webs for tangling men. [137] A VALENTINE BEFORE your gate from dawn to late The cheery postman whistles; And every mail augments the tale Of amorous epistles That jingle "heart" with "part" and "dart, 5 Nor fail to mention Cupid; That rhyme "above" and "love" and "dove 3 And other things as stupid. I pray you, spurn those lines that burn, Despite their foolish pleading. To flame consign each Valentine Except the one you re reading. And scorn the host that sent per post Those missives, poor and shoddy. "They love you, too?" Of course they do! For so does everybody! But, just as sure as snows are pure And shoes are made of leather, I do adore and love you more Than all the rest together! 139 A BILL FROM CUPID THIS Day of good Saint Valentine, Chateau de Psyche, Spain. Miss Arabella Lovibond, 600 Lovers Lane, For Merchandise detailed below, to Daniel Cupid, Debtor: To 7,000 Compliments, conveyed per Tongue or Letter; To 50 Cases Deathless Love, expressed per Burn ing Sighs; To 20 Cases (like above), expressed per Melting Eyes; To 1 8 dozen Fervent Vows, despatched per mail or spoken; To 1 8 dozen Flaming Hearts, irreparably broken; To Passage 6 Despairing Swains en route to Foreign Parts; To 14 Arrows, snapped and spoiled on 14 Flinty Hearts; To 15 Locks of Human Hair (black, yellow, brown, and sandy); To 37 hundredweight of Tributary Candy; To 40 Rides in Runabouts and 90 Auto Spins; To 8 Disused Engagement Rings and 19 College Pins; To 60 Bales of Violets and Roses (out of season) ; Oh, well, for these and other things beyond all Rhyme and Reason, Please pay, to Francis Happychap, my Agent, on Demand, In Settlement of Claims, in full: I Vow, I Heart, I Hand. [141] THE RAG DOLLY S VALENTINE THOUGH others think I stare with eyes unseeing, I ve loved you, Mistress mine, so dear to me, With all my fervent rag-and-sawdust being Since first you took me from the Christmas Tree. I love you though my only frock you tear ofF; I love you though you smear my face at meals; I love you though you ve washed my painted hair off; I love you when you drag me by the heels; I love you though you ve sewed three buttons on me, But most I love you when you sit upon me. No jealous pang shall mar my pure affection; For, while tis true your heart I m forced to share With that Wax Doll of pink-and-white complexion, The Pussy Cat, the Lamb and Teddy Bear, [142] Tis mine alone, whate er the time or place is> To know your every grief and each delight; I feel your childish wrath and warm embraces, I share your little pillow every night. And so, without another why or whether, I ll love you while my stitches hold together! [143] ARCHITECTURAL FM only a Gargoyle attached to a church, As ugly a Gargoyle as ever was known; I lean from my Gothic, aerial perch To gaze on that glorious vision in stone, The fair Caryatid just over the street Enthroned on a pillar of porphyry red, So mild of demeanor, so patient and sweet, Though seventeen stories are heaped on her head ! I envy the wind that may speak to my love, The raindrop that plashes her cheek like a tear, The cobweb that covers her hand like a glove, The sparrow that builds in the curve of her ear. I would I might woo her with passionate rhymes; But here is my duty, and here must I stay To guard the high steeple s reverberant chimes And frighten all frolicsome goblins away. [144] A BOY AND A PUP THE Boy wears a grin, A scratch on his chin, A wind-rumpled thatch, A visible patch, A cheek like a rose, A frecklesome nose. The Pup, though he may Be tawny as hay, Is blithe as a song; He gambols along And waves to each friend A wagglesome end. With whistle and bark They re off for a lark; According to whim, A hunt or a swim, A tramp or a run Or any old fun. [us] They don t care a jot If school keeps or not, When anything s up, The Boy and the Pup,- That duo of joy, A Pup and a Boy! [146] ON CHERUBS TRUE Cherubs never run in Debt Because of Clothes and Things, For, like some Chickens I have met, They re built of Heads and Wings. And Scientific Pens and Tongues Have made it very clear That Cherubs, since they can t have Lungs Must always Sing by Ear. But none of them, tis understood, Will play a Naughty Prank; And this is good, because they would Be Difficult to Spank. CHUMS You see, we three, Fred, Joe, and me, Is chums. When I "hullo!" To Fred and Joe They comes. Most every day We go and play Somewheres. If I ve a bun And they has none, We shares. We all can slide; And Fred can ride And swim, And make a kite! I think a sight Of him, [148] And Joey, too; He helps us do Our sums; Because, you see, Joe, Fred, and me Is chums. 149 A STRIKE IN FAIRYLAND THERE S terrible trouble in Fairyland, I hear from a humming-bird fresh from the border, The impudent sprites of that airy strand Refusing to follow the good old order. The elves have deserted both field and glade "So tired of tending the thankless flowers!" The gnomes have abandoned the pick and spade, Demanding more wages and shorter hours. The nixes and mermaids have swum ashore; "The waters are damp, chill, and uninviting." The witches will dwell in the woods no more; Apartments they want, with electric lighting. The monarchs are throwing their scepters down; "It s wearisome work, this eternal reigning!" The queens push their honey aside, and frown, And all through the palaces there s complaining. [150] The royal-born youths of the golden clime Play football and hockey, and each professes The utmost aversion to wasting time In rescuing maidens with golden tresses. And the maidens deplorable taste evince; Her nose in the air, each vows, defiant, That sooner than mate with a stupid prince She d marry an ogre or lovely giant! While the dragon roars from his gloomy hall (And, oh, it isn t a theme for laughter!): "I ve swallowed the princess, crown and all, And I m to "live happily ever after. " ii [151] HOUSE BLESSING STAND firm, gray Rock! Tough-weathered Beams, hold fast! Stanch Walls, proud Roof, Repel the warring Blast! Glow warm, deep Hearth, Against the Winter s Chill; Clear Flame of Love, Burn brighter, warmer still! 152] CLEVER ANIMALS WHY TIGERS CANT CLIMB THE tale is of the Tiger and his Aunt, who is the Cat: They dwelt among the jungles in the shade of Ararat. The Cat was very clever, but the Tiger, he was slow; He couldn t catch the Nilghau nor the heavy Buffalo; His claws were long and pointed, but his wit was short and blunt; He begged his Wise Relation to instruct him how to hunt. The Cat on velvet pattens stole along the quiet hill: "Now this," she whispered, "Nephew, is the way to stalk your Kill." The Cat drew up her haunches on the mossy for est couch: "And this," she said, "my Nephew, is the proper way to crouch." She hurtled through the shadows like a missile from a sling: "And that, my loving Nephew, is the only way to spring!" Oh, hungry was the Nephew, and the Aunt was sleek and plump; The Tiger at his Teacher made his first appren tice Jump; He did it very ably, but the Cat, more quick than he, Escaped his clutching talons and ran up a cedar- tree, And purred upon the Snarler from the bough on which she sat, "How glad I am, my Nephew, that I didn t teach you that!" And, since that Curtailed Lesson in the Rudiments of Crime, The most ambitious Tiger hasn t learned the way to climb. 156] PIGEON ENGLISH WHERE beeches shade the pasture gate, When nights grow short and days grow long, The wood-dove woos his modest mate, And this is all his wooing song: " Curr-a-hoo, curr-a-hoo ! You love me and I love you." But wedded life is full of care. Through all the sunny afternoon They vainly strive, that shiftless pair, To build their nest, while thus they croon: "Coo-pe-coo! Coo-pe-coo! Two sticks across, and a little bit of moss, And that will have to do, do, do!" When last I wandered down the lane The little mother, all intent [157] To feed her greedy nestlings twain, Was pouring forth a sad lament: "Coo-a-roo! What shall I do? I cannot feed my hungry Two, Though the little red Wren Can bring up ten And rear them all like gentlemen!" THE MINA-BIRD THERE lives a little Mina on the hills of Hindustan, The most conceited Mina of his most conceited clan. A cowry-shell he treasures, for a cowry may be spent As money; in the market it s a hundredth of a cent. "I m rich!" the Mina caroled just as loud as he could sing; "I m richer than the Rajah!" (And a Rajah is a king!) The Rajah was offended by this most insulting lay; He ordered out his Army and they took the shell away. "The Rajah must be hungry!" sang the Mina; "don t you see? The Rajah took my cowry, for the Rajah envied me !" [159] The Rajah wasn t ready for this method of attack; He disciplined his Army and they gave the cowry back. "I m greater," sang the Mina, than the mightiest of men! I forced the haughty Rajah to restore my wealth again!" The Rajah sat and pondered on his gold-incrusted throne: "I think," said he, "my Councilors, we ll leave that Bird alone. "He s rather prone to boastfulness, his voice is void of charm, He lacks a Sense of Humor, but he can t do any harm." So still the Mina magnifies his grandeur every where; Which makes him very happy and the Rajah doesn t care. 1 60 THE CARDINAL-BIRD WHERE snow-drifts are deepest he frolics along, A flicker of crimson, a chirrup of song, My Cardinal-Bird of the frost-powdered wing, Composing new lyrics to whistle in Spring. A plump little prelate, the park is his church; The pulpit he loves is a cliff-sheltered birch; And there, in his rubicund livery dressed, Arranging his feathers and ruffling his crest, He preaches, with most unconventional glee, A sermon addressed to the squirrels and me, Commending the wisdom of those that display The brightest of colors when heavens are gray. 161 THE SMALL HOT ROBIN AND THE LARGE COLD WORM HEARKEN to a Fable of the Recent Heated Term On the Small Hot Robin and the Large Cold Worm: The Weather, you ll remember, was Indubitably Hot, Which the Bird seemed likewise, though the Worm did not. The Worm lay off and chuckled in the Trickle of a Well As he heard Folks Comments on the Great Hot Spell. The Robin kept so busy with a Multitude of Things That he made Life cooler with his Flip-flap Wings. [162! The Selfish Worm delighted in the Mercury s Ascent, But the Robin never bothered where the Darned Thing went. A-hustling for a Dinner kept his Resolution firm, And he looked most happy when he spied that Worm! He darted and he fluttered and he wriggled and he pried, And he felt Much Better with the Worm inside. So remember, when it s Torrid, that you mustn t fret and squirm; You want to go and hustle for a Large Cold Worm. 163 WHY MOSQUITOES STING WHEN Suleiman the Glorious was judge of them that sinned The frail Mosquitoes brought to him a charge against the Wind; "O mighty King! whene er we hold our harm less dance," said they, "The Wind comes down from Scanderoon and sweeps us all away!" Then Suleiman the Glorious gave word to sky and sea: "Oh, bid the gipsy Wind appear to controvert the plea!" Across the hills, across the waves, across the deserts blown, The Wind came down from Scanderoon to plead before the throne. The Wind came down from Scanderoon and bent the cedar mast; The frail Mosquitoes whirled away like chaff upon the blast. Again they strove to urge their suit before the palace bar; Again the band, like thistledown, was scattered wide and far. But yet again to Suleiman they plied the gauzy wing: "Behold!" the spiteful chorus jeered, "the jus tice of the King! "The King of Men protects by craft the Wind who grieves us sore; The Sons of Men shall pay the fine and pay it o er and o er!" And since that long-remembered day, the shrewd, revengeful clan With treble shrill and poisoned bill have wreaked their wrath on Man. [165] THE BEE LITTLE chemic-artisan, Doing work no other can, Deep in dewy nectaries, Petal-walled refectories Apple-blossom, columbine, Rose and lily, all are thine, Yet, though oft thy weight they bear, Dost thou know how they are fair? Thine are sun and Summer breeze Hast thou aught of joy in these? Pollen-yellow dumbledore, Leave thy clovers tumbled o er! What s a lily? What s a rose? Down the golden lane he goes, Drowsing forth a prosy song, "Honey! Honey!" all day long, [166! Wasting life s diviner sweet, Hiving food for drones to eat. Oh, thou silly, silly bee! Idle here and learn of me! 12 [l6 7 ] THE FIRST CAT THE Ark on the dark, multitudinous waters Was tossing; the rain in a cataract poured; But Noah, his Lady, their sons and their daughters And all the wild live stock were safely aboard. They weren t much seasick in spite of the weather And rather cramped quarters; they d food to suffice, And all things were lovely, when, squeaking to gether, There rushed from the galley a rabble of mice! They multiplied yes, like a warren of rabbits! They plundered the pantry, devoured the grain; And such were their simply unspeakable habits That poor Mrs. Noah was well-nigh insane! She said so in language untrammeled and forceful! And what might have happened, the Lord only knows! [168] When Noah, the kindly and ever resourceful, Went up to the Lion and tickled his nose. Then thrice sneezed the Lion! and forth from the feature His Majesty sneezed with, there leaped in a trice A silky-haired, dagger-clawed, brisk little Crea ture And woe to the ravaging legions of mice! In twenties, in thirties, in fifties she slew them Before Mrs. Noah had time to say "scat!" "Aha!" laughed the Skipper, who watched her pursue them; "I don t know Its name, Dear; let s call It A Cat!" So, born of a sneeze in the Rain of All Ages That deluged the mountain, the valley, and plain, The Cat on your hearthstone to this day presages, By solemnly sneezing, the coming of rain! THE KITTY AND THE CAT A HIGHLY Cultured Tiger, both carnivorous and nice, Was greatly aggravated by a horde of Rodent Mice That showed the lack of manners uninvited to intrude, And played the Very Mischief with his comfort and his food. The Tiger, for the cleansing of his Himalayan flat, Installed within the domicile a Recommended Cat Who chased the Sleek Marauders when they gathered to the feast (Observing due precautions not to harm them in the least), Which left the Tiger happy in his victuals and his sleep, While Pussy drew good Wages in addition to her Keep. [170] Now Pussy, growing weary, took a fortnight to recruit Her health, and left a Kitten as a Likely Substitute. But Kitty proved Ambitious, and, despite of griev ous wails, Devoured all the Rodents but their whiskers and their tails! The Highly Cultured Tiger, being highly pleased thereat, Discharged, with thanks, his Servitors, the Kitty and the Cat; And while it s rash to credit every word a person hears, They say an angry Pussy boxed a hopeful Kitty s ears. And while I ve told the legend as it runs in Hin dustan, I ve clean forgot the Moral you may find it if you can. ETIQUETTE THE Gossips tell a story of the Sparrow and the Cat, The Feline thin and hungry and the Bird exceeding fat. With eager, famished energy and claws of grip ping steel, Puss pounced upon the Sparrow and prepared to make a meal. The Sparrow never struggled when he found that he was caught (If somewhat slow in action he was mighty quick of thought), But chirped in simple dignity that seemed to fit the case, "No Gentleman would ever eat before he d washed his face!" [172] This hint about his Manners wounded Thomas like a knife (For Cats are great observers of the Niceties of Life); He paused to lick his paws, which seemed the Proper Thing to do, And, chirruping derisively, away the Sparrow flew! In helpless, hopeless hunger at the Sparrow on the bough, Poor Thomas glowered longingly, and vowed a Solemn Vow: "Henceforth I ll eat my dinner first, then wash myself!" And that s The Universal Etiquette for Educated Cats. LITTLE LOST PUP HE was lost! not a shade of a doubt of that; For he never barked at a slinking cat, But stood in the square where the wind blew raw With a drooping ear and a trembling paw And a mournful look in his pleading eye And a plaintive sniff at the passer-by That begged as plain as a tongue could sue, "O Mister! please may I follow you?" Oh, the saddest of sights in a world of sin Is a little lost pup with his tail tucked in! Well, he won my heart (for I set great store On my own red Bute who is here no more), So I whistled clear, and he trotted up, And who so glad as that small lost pup? Now he shares my board and he owns my bed, And he fairly shouts when he hears my tread; Then, if things go wrong, as they sometimes do, And the world is cold and Fm feeling blue, He asserts his right to assuage my woes With a warm, red tongue and a nice, cold nose And a silky head on my arm or knee And a paw as soft as a paw can be. When we rove the woods for a league about He s as full of pranks as a school let out; For he romps and frisks like a three months colt, And he runs me down like a thunderbolt. Oh, the blithest of sights in the world so fair Is a gay little pup with his tail in the air! [175] THE AMBIGUOUS DOG THE Dog beneath the Cherry-tree Has ways that sorely puzzle me: Behind, he wags a friendly tail; Before, his Growl would turn you pale! His meaning isn t wholly clear Oh, is the Wag or Growl sincere? I think I d better not descend His Bite is at the Growly End. THE TALE OF TAILS IN Unrecorded Ages when the Minnows talked like Whales, The Very-Clever-Animals were destitute of Tails: The Monkey and the Possum couldn t hang emselves to dry, The Puppy couldn t waggle, nor the Heifer flap a fly; So when the Wild Geese trumpeted that Tails could soon be had, The Very-Clever-Animals were very, very glad. Upon the Day Appointed, when the Quadrupedal Rout Were flocking to the Trysting-Place-Where-Tails- Were-Given-Out, The Growly Bear was settling to his wonted win ter nap; He called his friend, the Rabbit, an obliging little chap, [177] And pledged him by the Whiskers of the Great Ancestral Hare To fetch a fitting Tail-piece for a Self-respecting Bear. But where the Tails were given, there was such a dreadful crush A mingled game of football and a bargain-counter rush That Bunny, hopping wildly for his own Desired End, Forgot his Solemn Promise to his sleepy-headed friend ! The Rabbit was returning to his Merry Native Vale, Rejoicing in the flourish of a lovely, furry Tail, When, rapidly descending from his Rocky Moun tain Lair, He saw the massive figure of his friend, the Growly Bear, Who roared, "My Tail, O Rabbit! Let me have it on the spot!" "Why" stammered out the Rabbit, "please excuse me, I forgot!" [178] Oh, Bruin swung his forepaw like a mighty iron flail; He smote our luckless Bunny on the Precious Furry Tail And shore it off completely, save a little bit of fluff!- Still, Honey, for a Bunny that is cotton-tail enough. WOOD-HARVEST YELLOWBIRD and Oriole wing to southern shores; All the little foresters glean their winter stores. Frost unlocks the chestnut burr, ripes the chinkapin, All the little foresters get their harvest in. Chipmunk in the hazel-grove crams his pouches full; Deermouse finds the alder fruit ripe enough to pull; Butternut and hickory please the Squirrel well; Apples of the wilderness fill the Woodchuck s cell. Frisking on the mountainside, rustling down the comb, All the little foresters hold their Harvest Home. [180] COYOTE AND THE STAR THIS is a legend from Siskiyou Bar, About "The Coyote Who Danced with a Star." Now, great were the deeds that Coyote had done! Coyote had stolen the flame of the Sun; Coyote had opened the Frost- Wizard s pen, Releasing the Salmon, desired of men. Coyote was proud of his craft and his might, His fleetness of foot and his clearness of sight, His scent, that was choicest of all that is choice, But most was he vain of his wonderful voice! He sat like a monarch exalted on high Where Sisson s cold summits are keen in the sky, And watched on the sweep of ethereal blue The Stars and their satellites pass in review. Aloft and alone O er Shasta s white cone A mischievous Star-fairy twinkled and shone. fiSil So lightly she danced That, charmed and entranced, Coyote cried boldly, "Fair, heavenly Sprite, Permit me to join in your glorious flight; I beg, I demand! Oh, reach me your hand! Together we ll frolic o er water and land." How flashed the Aurora, till heaven and earth Were gay with the glow of celestial mirth! "O hairy Coyote! how stupid you are To dream for a moment to dance with a Star!" What pencil will venture what brush will engage To show the Coyote in justified rage? He lifted his muzzle, he stiffened his tail, Affrighting the Night with a quavering wail. With yelp and with yowl, With growl and with howl, He startled the Owl and the Panther aprowl. He screamed like a baby bereft of his toys; He shattered the sky with his scandalous noise, With his "Yap! yap! ki-yee!" In its weird minor key, For never was singer remorseless as he. All vainly the Fairy cajoled and denied; He wouldn t hear reason. Then, wearied, she cried, "I wish you were dumb! You re crazy; but come!" And gingerly reached him a finger and thumb. He leaped ! and away, like the shaft and the feather, The Star and Coyote were flying together. And now, as he fled with that Spirit of Light There rushed far beneath him a glorious sight Of ranges and canons and barrens and plains, Of rivers cascading with turbulent rains, Of armies of bison, and cimmaron gray, And legions of antelopes bounding away; The towns of the Mandans, the Nez Perce ranches, The Utes, Pi-Utes, the dashing Comanches And Modocs, in-reining their snorting cayuses And shouting to women with wickered papooses, "Look! See!" as they waved to that vision afar, "The Clever Coyote, above, with a Star!" To caper in style For many a mile Careering the heavens, was grand! for a while. 13 [ 183 ] But frostily grew on Coyote, apace, The awe and the horror of limitless space. He felt on his temples the grip of a vise; The hand of his Partner seemed colder than ice. Twas dreadful to gaze upon mountains like barrows ! The tents of the Kahrocs like flint heads of arrows; The silvery Klamath, whose broad-bosomed flow Showed meager, mid hills, like the string of a bow Relaxed after battle. Grown dizzy and numb, He loosened his hold on the finger and thumb And dropped to the earth like a meteor plumb! And lit with a spat! As flat as a mat! So here is the Moral from Siskiyou Bar: "You Callow Coyote, don t dance with no Star!" HOMEWARD BOUND THERE S a pine-built lodge in a rocky mountain glen In the shag-breasted motherland that bore me; And the West Wind calls, and I m turning home again To the hills where my heart is gone before me, Where a lake laughs blue while the dipping paddles gleam, Where the wild geese are following their leader, Where the trout leaps up from the silver of the stream And the buck strikes his horn against the cedar. THE BALLAD OF THE BLACKBIRD THE Blackbird, the Blackbird was once of snowy white; What gave the sooty Blackbird a coat as dark as night ? The Blackbird, the Blackbird had music in his throat; What gave the croaking Blackbird a harsh, dis cordant note? The Blackbird, the Blackbird had once a beak of red; What gave the somber Blackbird a golden beak instead ? The Blackbird, the Blackbird came out to greet the Spring; He met a merry Magpie that bore a jeweled ring. fi861 The Blackbird, the Blackbird would seek a gem as brave. "I found it," piped the Magpie, "within the Treasure Cave." The Blackbird, the Blackbird would learn where that might be. "To westward," sang the Magpie, "beyond the Opal Sea." The Blackbird, the Blackbird would know the cavern s lord. "A Dragon," chirped the Magpie, "protects the Golden Hoard." The Blackbird, the Blackbird would brave the Dragon s zeal. "Be honest," warned the Magpie, "and ask, but do not steal." The Blackbird, the Blackbird flew fast across the wave; Within the Sable Mountain he found the Treasure Cave. [187] The Blackbird, the Blackbird went hopping down the floor; The ransom of a kingdom was heaped in golden ore. The Blackbird, the Blackbird forgot what he was told; His thieving beak of crimson he dipped in dust of gold. The Blackbird, the Blackbird fled forth in shriek ing woe; The Dragon of the Treasure came roaring from below! The Blackbird, the Blackbird reached safety but, alack! The sulphur-breathing Dragon had scorched his plumage black! The Blackbird, the Blackbird can never more rejoice; That guilty cry of terror has marred his liquid voice. [188] The Blackbird, the Blackbird flies off in heavy shame; The gold he would have stolen defiles his beak of flame! THE BAT AIRY-MOUSE, hairy mouse, Keen-eared contrary mouse, Come from your cavern a star s in the sky! Fluttering, flittering, Eerily chittering, Swoop on your quarry, the dusk-haunting fly. Airy-mouse, wary mouse, Witch-bird or fairy-mouse, Soft through the shadow the dawn-glimmer steals; Night s your carousing-time, Day brings your drowsing-time; Hence to your hollow and hang by your heels! 190] TEA WITH A DINOSAUR THUNDER-LIZARD, Brontosaurus, You that lived so long before us, You that ruled this mundane locus In the days of Diplodocus, Marvel of your age the classic Mesozoic time, Jurassic, Stir your sixty feet of length! Rouse your prehistoric strength! Lift your twenty tons anew! They are taking tea with you! What effrontery! what mockery! Rise, oh, rise and smash the crockery! Once you roamed o er rocks cretaceous Feasting on the growths herbaceous, Chewing Damarites gum With Iguanodon, your chum. Once you listened to the singing Of the Pterodactyls, winging Through the arborescent ferns. Doing acrobatic turns, Archaeopteryx bore chorus, When, with mighty Mososaurus And Triceratops the proud Through the tepid seas you plowed. Now you hearken to the clatter Of the tea-cups, and the chatter Of an upstart race, as dwarfish As a Cenozoic crawfish! Though they say you re not carnivorous, Wag that tail and Lord deliver us! Did some dragon-slaying Horus Cause your death, great Brontosaurus? Did the marshes cloak your glory With their mud? (A shameful story!) Once you breathed, Creation s wonder, And your footsteps woke the thunder. Now, they treat you with disdain; Say you had a two-pound brain, Not an ounce of wit to spare, And the courage of a hare! Will you hear the shocking slander Unrevengeful ? Where s your dander? Make these Men of Science see things! Raise a riot mongst the tea-things! Show the might you lived to glory in! Rise! insulted Dinosaurian! THE HUMMING-BIRD A MORSEL of rainbow forgot by a shower Is dashing the dew from the cardinal-flower. Two delicate pinions delightedly drumming Are witching the dawn with JLolian humming. A dainty black needle is probing the roses And proving what nectar the lily incloses. But under the honey-vine s odorous cover A true little bride waits her recreant lover. Then, fie! feathered truant, tis time you were winging; Enough of your feasting and music and singing, And arrow your flight to that bower of rest Your spider-web, thistledown, maidenhair nest! M94] THE RABBIT OF WALES MY riddle s a joy in a world of despair; A cousin, they say, of the merry March hare; He flourishes most at five hundred degrees; His cradle s a toast and his mother s a cheese; A troublesome, bubblesome, sweet little beast, His fragrant enough is as good as a feast (For who that is mortal may grapple with two?) When hot, he s ambrosia; when cold, he is glue. He never had fur, feathers, features, nor scales. The answer ? Of course ! Tis the Rabbit of Wales. When Arthur ruled Britain with scepter and sword, There came to the King at the festival board A wizard unrivaled in magical spell, Hight Morgan ap something in F-double-L. "Bold knights and true maidens!" he said, "ye perceive There s nothing concealed in the folds of my sleeve." [195] Then, "Hey! presto! change!" From the helm of King Lot He drew forth a Viand all smoking and hot. "This Marvel," quoth he, " mongst the chiefs of the dales Of Rheidol, is known as the Rabbit of Wales." Then reveled those lordlings, and when it beseemed They hied them to slumber. And, soothly, they dreamed Of gryfons and dragons and gy aunts, and thynges, And heathen enchaunters and Saracen kynges, And boars that had tuishes full twenty rods long, And jousts that were bloody and strokes that were strong, Of which, when ye read (an it please ye to look) Set down in the pages of Malory s book, Remember, that they who recounted these tales Had banqueted free on the Rabbit of Wales. He lives through the ages, more soothing than silk, As potent as porter, as gentle as milk. Unblemished of youth, he has heightened disport In hovel and palace, in tavern and court. When Jonson and Herrick made feasts at the Sun, The Boar and the Mermaid, of them he was one. He frolicked with Shakespeare, with Chaucer and Gower; He s older than Merlin and Owen Glendower; They find in the primal Devonian shales The fossil remains of the Rabbit of Wales. When tables are snowy, and heavenward roll The violet smoke wreaths that comfort the soul, He comes! from the region of skillets and spits Upborne on the platter of rubicund Fritz. How blithely he bubbles! How sweetly he steams! How mellow, how yellow, how tender he seems! So mild is his temper, we ll give it a cross; Then feed him with mustard and berry brown sauce, And drink his repose in the primest of ales: "Waes hael! to the rantipole Rabbit of Wales! 5 [197 MACARONI Tis made of the flour of wheat, so they say, Although I confess to the dawnings Of doubt how they mix it on Avenue A Before it is dried on the awnings. Fair Italy s sons in the family shed Alluringly drape it and coil it; But don t be afraid, for the microbes are dead As nails when you properly boil it. Tis blithe, in the cellars of festive New York To see how the diners assail it! Some mince it, some reel up its lengths on a fork, While others devoutly inhale it. It should be absorbed to "Faniculi s" strains, Or, maybe, to "Santa Lucia s." All poets agree it is good for the brains. The best may be had at Maria s. [ 198 ] I like it served hotter, by twenty degrees, Than any place mentioned by Dante; Then, quickly! Beppino, with plenty of cheese, And don t you forget the Chianti! 4 Fiqq] THE CUCKOO (A FABLE FOR THE DIFFIDENT) A CUCKOO, winging toward the Town Of Tutinghorn, Espied a Wren that fluttered down Upon a thorn; And, lighting near, the silence broke With eager words Demanding how the village spoke Of other birds. "How talk they of the Nightingale?" The Cuckoo cried. "Her fame resounds through all the vale," The Wren replied. "The Lark," the Cuckoo hinted then, "Wins equal praise?" "Why, half the village," chirped the Wren, "Extol his lays." [200] "Perhaps they laud the Robin, too?" Quoth April s bird. "The Robin? Well, perhaps a few," The Wren averred. The Cuckoo paused. "What share have I Of praise or blame?" "Ah," laughed the Wren, who cannot lie, "None breathe your name." The Cuckoo huffed in wounded pride; Away he flew. "Then must I praise myself" he cried; "Cuckoo! Cuckoo!" 201 ] TRAMPING His heart should sing from dawn to sunset flare, Wherever foot may tread his path may lie, His pack must be too small to hold a care Who takes for guide the gipsy butterfly. At morn the thrush, at noon the tinkling brook, At eve the cricket choir shall cheer his way; His eye shall find delight in every nook; The squirrels merry gnomes in red or gray, The clover bent beneath the booming bees, The woodchuck, sober monk in russet clad, The dragon-fly athwart the culverkeys Shall wake his love of things and make him glad. Again along a checkered road I swing Through friendly woods and fields where daisies nod, While still before me drifts on vagrant wing The butterfly whose beauty praises God. [202] MERE LITERATURE IMPUDENT INTERVIEWS I GEORGE BERNARD SHAW A CHEERFUL, well-appointed study at Number 10, Adelphi Terrace, London, W. C., the blaze of a crackling fire, within, rendered doubly alluring by the bluster of a detestable March night, without. Substantial furniture, a neatly arranged desk, and bookcases filled with orderly volumes, notably the works of Nietzsche, Schopenhauer, Karl Marx and Plato, with dramatists old and new, suggest that the inmate is a methodical person possessed of philosophic and literary tastes. This diagnosis is borne out by the appearance of the victim him self as he stands with his back to the glow, his tall, thin, alert, Satanic figure sharply outlined against the yellow flames. How old is he? His some what scanty hair and beard, once red, but now al most colorless, indicate that he has emerged from [205] the larval stage of youthful cynicism and despond ency and is now in the full enjoyment of that radiant benevolence and optimism granted only to those who have known the triumphs and accom plished promises of half a century and more. His brown suit, red tie, and soft flannel shirt, as well as the broad-brimmed Alpine hat which he has thrown upon the table, reveal the Socialist; his excessive pallor betrays confirmed vegetarian ism; while his steel-blue eyes of soldierly direct ness give assurance that here is one who would sooner quarrel than eat a bushel of turnips. Upon the bookcase facing him stands a bronze portrait- bust, clearly of himself (for it is by the hand of no less a sculptor than Rodin), upon which his eyes fall quizzically, yet, on the whole, with great respect. To the right and left of this master piece are other works of art an effigy of Ibsen upon which our Protagonist, as he speaks, confers a glance of condescending approbation; a bas- relief of Wagner, which he notices with a slight nod that seems to say, "Very well, old man; but it s lucky for you that I devoted myself to Drama instead of Opera"; and an engraving of the Strat- [206] ford bust of Shakespeare which must, perforce, be content with a commiserating smile that may be interpreted as signifying, "Poor chap! You meant well, but you didn t know!" My birth? I beg you, let us call That mystery unsolved. In fact, I was not born at all, But, so to speak, evolved. My education? Books are naught; At schools I ve always spurned; So just put down, "The man was taught"; Or, better still, "He learned." You seek to know my aim in life? To write as best I can, To stir a little wholesome strife And hunt the Superman. Myself, the First of Supermen, I levitate above Your wabbling world, and now and then I give the thing a shove. [207] In motley clad ("the only wear!") I watch with fiendish grin Your childish bubbles float in air And prick them with a pin. My creed, though big and broad, insists On ten perfervid hells, Say one for anti-Socialists And nine for H. G. Wells. Ah, yes; I ve written loads of stuff From changing points of view, And all of it is bright enough, And much, I fear, is true. My Works? behold them, bound in calf Upon the middle shelf. They re great; yet, somehow, more than half I don t believe myself. For what is Truth? How well I know A jest confutes the wise! But this, at least, I m sure is so It pays to advertise! [208] II RUDYARD KIPLING WELL, take a chair, cock your feet upon the mantel piece (Seeing that s your custom in the "Country of the Free"); Though I ve always been averse My achievements to rehearse, Yet to ease an Anxious Public I will tell the tale of ME. Trained in a school in the dowie dens of Devon shire, Joined with wild companions full of dark iniquity, I concocted boyish crimes And composed satiric rhymes Till my college-mates and pedagogues were all afraid of ME. [209] Up came a ship and they packed me back to India, There to run a paper like a printer on a spree; And I wrote of many things, Yea, of Cabbages and Kings, For the Secrets of the Universe are openwork to ME. Sang I the wiles of the black and yellow Aryan, Brahman or Mohammedan of high or low degree: Khoda Baksh and Daoud Shah, Gunga Din and Dana Da, Their polka-dotted consciences were primers unto ME. Sang I the ways of the furry-coated Jungle Folk; Furthermore, the ways of the Best Society; But, speaking man to man, Young Mowgli and his clan In all the prime essentials seemed the better crowd to ME. Sang I the feats of the heavy-footed soldier-man, Infantry and horse, but especially of Three. [210] Oh, my views are often crude, And my manners mostly rude, But Stanley, Jock, and Terence were the best of friends with ME. Far went my fame, and afar I went to follow it, Ranged the zones and continents and roved From Sea to Sea; And I wrote of all I saw, And I flicked you on the raw, But, Masterpiece or Tommyrot, you bougnt my books of ME. Oh, I have whooped for entangled Jingo politics, Told of sordid battles and of Britons up a tree; I have bellowed double-bass For the Glory of the Race, And Sovereigns and Ministers have taken tips from ME. Ah, I have twanged of the choo-choo car and flying-ship, Imaging my world and the wonder yet to be; [211] Electricity and Steam And the Piston and the Beam And the Triple-action Whirligig are Poetry to ME. Now what remains but to sing the Song of Calculus, Logarithmic lullaby and algebraic glee? I will chant in Lowland Dutch Of Quaternions and such, And the boundless Fourth Dimension shall delight to honor ME! [212] Ill JACK LONDON IN the hurly and the burly of the Early Pleis tocene, Ere the Adamistic Dynasty began, I went roaming through the gloaming with my little forest queen, Not a Monkey, nor an Evoluted Man. Oh, we teased the Woolly Bear And we pulled the Mammoth s hair And we took the Snarly Tiger by the paw. Though I ve lived an awful lot, I have never quite forgot Human Nature as I knew it in the Raw. I m a Railer and a Trailer and a Sailor of the Seas (In my Present Incarnation, let me add), Anarchistic, atavistic, pessimistic, if you please, For I ve roved around the world and found it bad. [213] In the cold Alaskan camps, On the road with grimy tramps, On the ocean in the howling of the gale, I have played a fitting part; And I learned the writer s art By inventing lies to keep me out of jail. If you re burning to be earning over seven cents a word You must cultivate the Brutal and the Rude. Write a story that is gory; milder matter is absurd, For the Public has no taste for Baby Food. Give em Cruelty and Vice, Give em Misery on Ice, Give em rough-and-tumble, marlinspike, and gun; Give em groans to wake the dead, Make it Gristly, Ripe, and Red, For they love their Mental Beefsteak underdone. IV JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY DOWN in Injianny (ez you may uv heard before), The sweet, ol -fashioned roses grow about the cot tage door, An hummin -birds go dartin roun the swayin hollyhawks, An* daisies edge the gardin paths where Arma- zindy walks. The little boys plays hooky, an they takes their fishin -pole, Or you kin hear em splashin in the riffled swim- min -hole, An other things is happenin what you mustn t write about, Or the Publishers 11 git you Ef you Don t Watch Out! *5 [215] Wunst there wuz a little boy what didn t mean no harm, But lived in Hancock County near a watermelon- farm; He might a been a lawyer, but wuz skeered o bein rich, So took to paintin signs an things, an actorin , an* sich, An singin* songs with chirp o bird an splash o summer rain, With here a tender, homey tale an there a quaint refrain. But don t you go a-makin rhymes that folks can t do without, Or the Publishers 11 git you Ef you Don t Watch Out! There s lots o fellers pennin* odes which some how don t connect, Becuz they think the major p int is Hoosier dialect. [216! Now dialect is handy ez a means o savin* time It often helps a lazy bard that s lookin* fer a rhyme; But poetry is poetry, no matter what the tongue The lovin thought, the lyric word appeals to old an* young; An* ef you got the hang uv it there isn t any doubt That the Publishers 11 git you Ef you Don t Watch Out! 217] LETTERS TO THE LITERATI I TO SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE GENTLE Sir Conan, I ll venture that few have been Half as prodigiously lucky as you have been. Fortune, the flirt! has been wondrously kind to you, Ever beneficent, sweet, and refined to you. Doomed though you seemed one might swear without perjury Doomed to the practice of physic and surgery, Yet, growing weary of pills and physicianing, Off to the Arctic you packed, expeditioning. Roving and dreaming, Ambition, that heady sin, Gave you a spirit too restless for medicine; That, I presume, as Romance is the quest of us, Made you an Author the same as the rest of us. Ah, but the rest of us clamor distressfully, "How do you manage the game so successfully? Tell us, disclose to us how under Heaven you Squeeze from the inkpot so splendid a revenue!" Then, when you d published your volume that vindicates England s South African raid (or the Syndicate s), Pleading that Britain s extreme bellicosity Wasn t (as most of us think) an atrocity Straightway they gave you a cross with a chain to it (Oh, what an honor! I could not attain to it, Not if I lived to the age of Methusalem !) Made you a Knight of St. John of Jerusalem! Faith! as a teller of tales you ve the trick with you! Still there s a bone I ve been longing to pick with you: Holmes is your hero of drama and serial; All of us know where you dug the material Whence he was molded tis almost a platitude; Yet your detective, in shameless ingratitude Sherlock your sleuthhound with motives ulterior Sneers at Poe s "Dupin" as "very inferior!" Labels Gaboriau s clever "Lecoq," indeed, Merely "a bungler," a creature to mock, indeed! [219] This, when your plots and your methods in story owe More than a trifle to Poe and Gaboriau, Sets all the Muses of Helicon sorrowing. Borrow, Sir Knight, but be decent in borrowing! Still let us own that your bent is a cheery one, Little you ve written to bore or to weary one, Plenty that s slovenly, nothing with harm in it, Much with abundance of vigor and charm in it. Give me detectives with brains analytical Rather than weaklings with morals mephitical Stories of battles and man s intrepidity Rather than wails of neurotic morbidity! Give me adventures and fierce dinotheriums Rather than Hewlett s ecstatic deliriums! Frankly, Sir Conan, some hours I ve eased with you And, on the whole, I am pretty well pleased with you. [220] II TO J. M. BARRIE WHAT are you busy at, Barrie, my laddie-boy? Is it you re golfing, pursued by a caddie-boy? Man, are you preaching, romancing or joking now? What is the blend of tobacco you re smoking now? Maybe you re writing in hoot-awa dialect Sketches of orthodox elders and high, elect Kirkmen of Glasgow, or Thrums, or Glen Quharity, Long on religion yet lacking in charity, Banning all pleasures as covertly sinister. Give us some news of your braw Little Minister All in your true, Ecclefechan-Glengarry-tone Where is the voice that is sweeter than Barrie- tone ? There on my table with covers all gilded up, Peter and Wendy the book you have builded up [221] Out of the games we ve all played but forgot about, Out of the dreams that you know such a lot about Spreads, to recall to us poor ephemerides, How once we roved in the Golden Hesperides, Roved in our childhood when dreams were realities. Come! Let s adventure in new principalities; Fly through the blue empyrean, ecstatical; Skirmish with Injuns and villains piratical; Battle with lions and monsters reptilian; Slip from the gnashings of jaws crocodilian; Massacre grizzlies and tigers Hyrcanian; Wander in wonderful caves subterranean; Build in those underworlds marvelous palaces Proving the dogmas of physics pure fallacies; Dance with the mermaids and cope with those subtle fish, Shark and octopus and terrible cuttle-fish; Sport in the tree-tops with monkeys that hand to us Mangoes and nuts and are perfectly grand to us; Dig buried treasure in islands with cannibals; Conquer like Caesars, Napoleons, Hannibals! [222] Be but our leader, and fearless we ll follow you, Aye, though the maw of Leviathan swallow you! Old are the dreamers who, when they awake, be lieve All that they dreamed in their childhood was make-believe. Older are they who, engrossed in endeavor, land Seldom or never at all in your Neverland. Oldest are they that forget, in their gravity, E en that they dreamed in their youth and de pravity, Plodding and grubbing to win just a penny more, Too dull to sigh for Arcadia any more! Surely, such renegades we shall not show our selves. Must we grow up like them? Not if we know ourselves! 223] Ill TO MAURICE HEWLETT WHO S the romancer to tax our credulities? Who but our hero, Sir Maurice de Hewlett, is! Have I been reading your "Song of the Renny" thing ? Sure! and it s quite too exciting for anything. Oh, but your ladies and knights are a fancy lot Pikpoynts and Blanchmains, Mabilla and Lance- ilhot, Borrowed from legend or chivalric chronicle, Fierce-hearted women folk, braggarts thrasonical, Nobles as gross as the Nile hippopotami, Lawless and lustful and skilled in phlebotomy, Villains that stab while the victim negotiates Hardly the kind one prefers as associates, Innocent maidens enmeshed in the scheme of things Do you eat mince-pie to help you to dream of things ? [224] Faith, tis a bedlam, the realm that you write about, Freckled with castles and ladies to fight about. Aye, tis a kingdom for raising the devil in, Such as good Brother Jack London would revel in. Bold is your fancy and wildly pictorial, Strangely controlled and yet phantasmagorial. Like your old churchmen you strive to illuminize, Yet, in creating, you only half humanize, Making your knights and their lovely affinities Not men and women, but fallen divinities Driven by Fate and their passions tyrannical. Then, but you ll say that I m too Puritanical. Though your morality somewhat too porous is, You can sling language to beat the thesauruses. So, go ahead with your epics of greater days, Making us glad that we re living in later days. Sing us your Iliads, Eddas, and Odysseys, Sing us of ladies with palpitant bodices, Long-sworded bravos and helmeted paladins, Troubadours, vavasours, Richards, and Saladins! Sing us of demoiselles, proudly imperial, Clad in some soft, gauzy, purple material; [225] Sing us of donjon, portcullis, and bartizan, Sing us of battle-ax, falchion, and partisan! Sing us of females that strangle their relatives, Sing us of poets with pretty appellatives, Sing of the loves of the lamellibranchia Anything s better than Senhouse and Sanchia! 226] RHYMED REVIEW BELLA DONNA, BY ROBERT HICHENS THE Nile: Adorn our painted scene With dahabeeyahs, sphinxes, scarabs And choruses of fellaheen, Saadeyehs, donkey-boys, and Arabs. Here Nigel Armine brought his wife, "La Bella Donna" not to trim it, A lady with a checkered life, Prepared to go beyond the limit. Idyllic love, divine but tame, Had left her peevish, bored, and moody, When up the Nile Diversion came A Greek-Egyptian called Baroudi A millionaire with noble head, Soft voice, and eyes of burning glances, The sort of scamp expressly bred For recent white-and-tan romances, [227] Who made her woo him. Sad to state, His love was purely Oriental; Which means, about the lady s fate He didn t care a continental. They met on shadowed desert scaurs, Baroudi s tent the couple screening. * * * * * (Observe, I quote these little stars; Let Mr. Hichens clear their meaning). He dropped a hint; she snatched it up. With powdered lead in rank solution She dosed her husband s coffee-cup And would have wrecked his constitution. But ere the fatal work was done Appeared that heaven-sent physician The famous Doctor Isaacson, A Sherlock Holmes for intuition, To spoil the game. With little ruth He rent her sweet, angelic cover; So Bella Donna owned the truth And fled by night to join her lover. [228! He cast her off. In blinded haste, Before the birds began to twitter, She staggered far across the waste I hope to God a lion bit her! [229] DIVINA COMMEDIA BEYOND the Pleiades: "Your name?" "Sam Clemens, please." "Don t know you. Where in space D you hail from?" "Earth." "What place Is that?" "A place for fun." "Hmp! tell me what you ve done." "Let s see. I wrote Huck Finn "What? Mark! Why, come right in!" [230] THE YOUNG CELTIC POETS (WITH THANKS TO G. K. CHESTERTON) THEIR hearts are bowed with sorrow, They love to wail and croon; They shed big tears when they sigh, "Machree," Floods when they sob, "Aroon!" For the Young Gaels of Ireland Are the lads that drive me mad; For half their words need foot-notes, And half their rhymes are bad. 16 [231] MAVRONE (ONE OF THOSE SAD IRISH POEMS, WITH NOTES) FROM Arranmore the weary miles I ve come; An all the way I ve heard A Shrawn 1 that s kep me silent, speechless, dumb, Not sayin any word. An was it then the Shrawn of Eire, 2 you ll say, For him that died the death on Carrisbool? It was not that; nor was it, by the way, The Sons of Garnim 3 blitherin their drool; 1 A Shrawn is a pure Gaelic noise, something like a groan, more like a shriek, and most like a sigh of longing. 2 Eire was daughter of Carne, King of Connaught. Her lover, Murdh of the Open Hand, was captured by Greatcoat Mack intosh, King of Ulster, on the plain of Carrisbool, and made into soup. Eire s grief on this sad occasion has become pro verbial. 3 Garnim was second cousin to Manannan MacLir. His sons were always sad about something. There were twenty- two of them, and they were all unfortunate in love at the same time, just like a chorus at the opera. " Blitherin their drool" is about the same as "dreeing their weird." [232] Nor was it any Crowdie of the Shee, 1 Or Itt, or Himm, nor wail of Barryhoo 2 For Barrywhich that stilled the tongue of me. Twas but my own heart cryin 5 out for you, Magraw! 3 Bulleen, Shinnanigan, Boru, Aroon, Machree, Aboo! 4 ^he Shee (or "Sidhe," as I should properly spell it if you were not so ignorant) were, as everybody knows, the regular, stand-pat, organization fairies of Erin. The Crowdie was their annual convention, at which they made melancholy sounds. The Itt and Himm were the irregular, or insurgent, fairies. They never got any offices or patronage. See Mac- Alester, Polity of the Sidhe of West Meath, page 985. 2 The Barryhoo is an ancient Celtic bird about the size of a Mavis, with lavender eyes and a black-crape tail. It con tinually mourns its mate (Barrywhich, feminine form), which has an hereditary predisposition to an early and tragic demise and invariably dies first. 3 Magraw, a Gaelic term of endearment, often heard on the baseball fields of Donnybrook. 4 These last six words are all that tradition has preserved of the original incantation by means of which Irish rats were rhymed to death. Thereby hangs a good Celtic tale, which I should be glad to tell you in this note; but the publishers say that being prosed to death is as bad as being rhymed to death, and that the readers won t stand for any more. 233 THE WRATH OF THE POET PM telling ye now of a hero of story The Seanachan, chief of the bards of his time, That harped before Guaire the King in his glory And proved to all Connaughtthe Power of Rhyme. When all in the palace was having a gay time The Seanachan entered, the brisk little man; "Mille failthe!" sez the King; "ye re as welcome as Maytime! And what are ye eating? and fill up yer can! "The whisky s forninst ye, the pot s on the bubble; And won t ye be having a slice of the leg?" "My thanks," sez the Bard; "am I giving ye trouble To ask them to boil me a bit of an egg?" They boiled him an egg and they brought it to table; But while he was tuning his harp for a lay, [234] The crafty old Rats from the cellar was able To reach the Bard s dinner and roll it away! And when he preceived how them Rats had been thieving, His wrath was tremendous, his anger was strong; He knew that his dinner was gone past retrieving, And hurled at the scamps all the might of his song. He sang of their wives and their sons and rela tions; He sneered at their habits, the taints of their blood, He blazoned the sins of their past generations And all their great-grandmothers back to the Flood. Now mind ye, the words that he used in his jeering Were those of a Poet well taught and well bred; Still, since there is always some ladies in hearing Tis best to forget what he sang and he said. [235] But, ah, the poor Rats! When those wretched rapscallions Had felt the full wrath of the Bard they d defied, They crawled from their crannies in troops and battalions, And, lifting their pitiful paws up, they died I So mark what I m telling, ye saucy gossoon ye! Don t anger a Poet, whatever ye re at, For fear he should curse ye, defame ye, lampoon ye, And rhyme ye to death like an old Irish Rat! [236] THE NEO-CELTIC CRITICISM WASN T ye there when the Celtic tragedians Played to a houseful of Irish comedians All of them zealous in matters Hibernian, Full of the ripest of Dublin Falernian All of them experts, entitled to criticize, Laden with eggs to assist them to witticize? Plain was the stage, and the costumes was pea sant-like; All the proceedings was easy and pleasant-like, Till, says the Hero (a queer Irish laddie, now!), "Sure, an I m just after killin me daddy, now." Up from his seat jumped a critic meticulous: "Bosh!" says he loudly; " tis vile an ridiculous!" And, for to prove that his judgment was plenary, Hove a potato right into the scenery! "Yes," says another, "I fully agree with ye. Erin, sweet Erin, they re making too free with ye! [237] Such fabrications are false and felonious; Here s a tomato that brands them erroneous!" "Sir," cried a third, "yer position s invincible!" Hurling an egg in defense of the Principle. "Aye," chimed a fourth, and to clinch it, upsetted a Critical vial of pure asafoetida. Then came a shower of erudite reasoning Cabbages, turnips, and pepper for seasoning Till, though undaunted, the Irish Melpomene Saw all the stars in the book of astronomy. Now to the aid of the criticized player folk Rushed the policemen, rebutting the gayer folk, Out through the lobby persuasively booting them, Using their clubs in the way of confuting them. When in discussion the Bluecoats had bested them, Straightway those fine Irish critics arrested them. Scolding the culprits, says Magistrate Corrigan, "Don t ye be doing the like any more again. Shut up your mouths ! I don t want any speech of ye; Ten paper dollars I m asking from each of ye. And, ye ll remember, when next ye are hating things, Clubs are the old Irish means of debating things!" [238] THE VILLAIN PROTESTS A NOVEL (published by Macmillan) Is now before you; I m the Villain. For, though a Villain I abhor, That s what my Author means me for. Now, if your intellect s alert, you Will know that I m in love with Virtue; Yet, all to help the story, I m Foredoomed to Wickedness and Crime. A sad predestination this To work for meed of groans and hisses, To shuffle, cozen, slay and rob And fail! however, that s my job. A Hero may be vain or idle Or dissolute or homicidal; But he is privileged, and so Emerges whitewashed, pure as snow. [239] Then what determines who in fiction Shall have your praise or malediction Yes, who shall be the Villain, who The Hero? Just a Point of View! Does anybody doubt that Nero In his own story was the hero? While Washington, I ve somewhere heard, Was not revered by George the Third. So, Gentle Reader, judge me rightly And see a Hero, brave and knightly, Resolved to foil, by hook or crook, The Caitiff Author of this book! My plots shall all be most successful; I ll win the Heroine distressful (Her love is all a body needs To sanctify his darkest deeds). My adversaries I ll belabor; And when upon my flashing saber That Other Fellow I impale, / // be the Hero of this tale! [240] OPERA IN ENGLISH: AlDA THE other night I went with Vida To hear the opera, "Aid a," Which offers musical descriptions Of love among the old Egyptians. Amneris, (lovely Madame Homer, A star, and that is no misnomer) A Princess, was exceeding partial To young Radames, brave and martial, Whose heart, alas! was palpitating About the royal maid-in-waiting Aida (Madame Emmy Destinn, Who really didn t look her best in A sable frock with golden borders). Radames, getting marching orders, Led forth to war his gallant bowmen And soon returned with captive foemen, Among these luckless ones, a rather Unruly chief, Aida s father! (A king of Ethiopia shepherds Arrayed in skins of spotty leopards.) Radames, loath to treat severely The kin of her he loved so dearly, Implored the priests to loose his chattel. Radames having won a battle, The council felt obliged to heed him. They cheered the captive king and freed him. The savage king proved aught but grateful; He growled, "Your Egypt s simply hateful! Hist! Friend Radames, take my daughter; We ll flee afar from chains and slaughter; Amid the pleasant desert places Fll make you lord of other races!" The plotters three away were winging When all the others heard them singing And found their song sufficient reason To cast them into jail for treason. Now came Amneris, half-demented; She cried, "Radames, they ve consented To spare you if, no more a rover, You ll swear to throw Aida over!" Radames (Signor E. Caruso), Refusing stubbornly to do so, [242] They buried him beneath the pavement! Ai da shared his quick begravement, And so they perished, Heaven love them! Amneris shedding tears above them. [2431 WHAT THE EDITOR WANTS MY dear Mr. Inkling: We want in a twinkling A story just tinkling With humor and zest; Not gloomy or fearful Or morbid or tearful But pleasant and cheerful And one of your best. The kind that we meet with But seldom; a treat with A plot that s replete with Heart interest, you know; Original, truly; And yet not unduly Bizarre or unruly, But quite comme il faut. We like brisk narrations With bright conversations [244] And lively flirtations (That end with a ring), Or young politicians And maidens with missions Who better Conditions And that sort of thing. We re fond of the prattle Of punchers of cattle; We ll stand for the rattle Of guns, and a deal Of ranch or hacienda; Or maybe you ll send a Romance a la Zenda All flashing with steel. We trust that you re shipping A tale simply ripping And virile and gripping, Yet nothing above Our Readers, nor slushy Nor mushy nor gushy, But oh, slightly blushy, With plenty of love! [245] L ENFOI THE MENTORS MY table holds a book, well scored, A simple gift my mother gave; Above my couch-head hangs a sword, A sword that helped to free the slave. My shelves are bare of costly books, My walls of works that Art would prize, But down upon me ever looks One pictured face with constant eyes. These give me strength to speak to men What truth I know; they cheer Defeat, They counsel Doubt; they rule my pen, Three mentors, wise and strong and sweet. No bitter word I dare to trace, No craven thought, no phrase untrue, While Book and Sword and your dear face Keep watch and ward on all I do. [246] THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE STAMPED BELOW AN INITIAL FINE OF 25 CENTS WILL BE ASSESSED FOR FAILURE TO RETURN THIS BOOK ON THE DATE DUE. THE PENALTY WILL INCREASE TO 5O CENTS ON THE FOURTH DAY AND TO $1.OO ON THE SEVENTH DAY OVERDUE. LIBRARY USE RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWE1 LOAN DEPT. f> inc^A 1 "*-* j- te j*f Q-o r: h 1 . . LD 62A-50m-7, 65 (F5756slO)9412A General Library University of California Berkeley