A Distinction
BY JOHN WILKES.
[From Lippincott's Magazine.]
A man may rant and a man may rail
When a honk-honk honks at him;
A man may pant and a man may wail
As the honk-honk-honk grows dim;
But the same man smirks and the same man smiles
And to honk-honk-honk is prone-
See the same man's quirks and the same man's wiles When he gets a honk-honk of his own!
The Tale of the Sea-shell
[From Lippincott's Magazine.]
A daughty warrier Sword-fish
Had wooed a dainty Trout,
And wedding invitations
Were duly hurried out.
The Cuttle-fishes wrote them.
In very blackest ink;
The Flying-fish delivered them
Before the Eel could wink.
The Shrimp was melancholy-
Miss Trout had been his love,
And he'd prepared a homelet
In a little, sheltered cove.
The Walrus preached the sermon,
Arriving there on Skates-
The "Fishing Line" was charging
Such very fishy rates.
The Fiddler-crabs' fine music
Was mostly played in Scales;
The dance was neatly opened
By two gigantic Whales-
Their pretty partners chosen
From pupils of the schools
Which Miss Trout had attended,
Though 'twas against the rules.
The Weakfish got dyspepsia
Because he over-ate
Of the delicious supper
The thrifty Clam had baked.
The Codfish said he never
Had so enjoyed a ball,
And all the fishes in the swim
Had a good time at the haul.
[From Lippincott's Magazine.]
My Marguerite, she is so sweet,
That Elsa scarce seems sweeter;
And Josephine is just a treat-
I'd like almost to eat her.
Gay Josephine of blithsome mien
Is younger than the others;
Sly Elsa coming in between,
With charm that fairly smothers;
While Daisy, pure and as demure
As is the flower she's named for,
Affects a dignity mature
Her years cannot be blamed for.
At once to see these lassies three
Makes any choice uncertain-
So much of love peeps out at me
From 'neath each dear eye's curtain.
So, triply blest, I love each best,
For surely 'twould distress them,
Should I prefer one to the rest—
My daughters three. God bless them!
A Summer Cycle
BY NELLE PARKER JONES.
[From Lippincott's Magazine.]
A boat and a beach and a summer resort, A man and a maid and a moon;
Soft and sweet nothings and then at the real
Psychological moment a spoon.
A whisper, a promise, and summer is o'er,
And they part in hysteric despair
(But neither returns in the following June,
For fear that the other is there.)
Love in June
BY C. CUNNINGHAM.
[From Lippincott's Magazine.]
Somethin' meller in the air-
Bees and blossoms ev'rywhere;
Re'lly don't intend to shirk,
But I jest can't git to work.
Seein' green, new-feathered trees
Makes me trimbly in the knees;
Jest fall over in the shade
In the greenest grass that's made
Snoozin' to the bluebird's tune-
Anybody knows it's June!
Feller watches dronin' bees
Courtin' 'mong the blossom-trees;
Birds is lovin', right in sight-
Don't mind strangers, not a mite.
So when I met Mary Lou,
Kissed her for a "How d' y' do";
Tol' her she I love the bes';
Got a shy-like, timid "Yes."
No use talkin', any loon
Knows 'at love is part o' June!
[From Lippincott's Magazine.]
She always met my ardent looks
With ill-concealed disdain
And wouldn't share my cab when caught
One morning in the rain;
But all at once her freezing air
Dissolved in sunny smiles;
She danced with me, and drove with me, And spread for me her wiles.
My locks may be a trifle thin,
My mustache slightly gray,
But still my heart is twenty-one,
Romantic, light, and gay.
She pinned a rosebud in my coat
(I keep it, dry and brown),
And I began to think I ought
To wed and settle down.
On operas, dinners, books, and flowers
My money dwindled fast,
Until that calculating maid
Unclosed my eyes at last.
"It's been so good of you," she said,
"To entertain me, when
Since I have been engaged I can't
Go out with younger men."
The play is done the curtain drops,
Slow falling to the prompter's bell;
A moment yet the actor stops,
And looks around to say farewell.
On life's wide scene you, too, have parts,
That fate ere long shall bid you play;-
Good night! With honest, gentle hearts
And kindly greeting, go alway!
The Stuttering Sonneteer
BY SAM S. STINSON.
And now kuk-comes the bub-bub-bitter time,
When dud-dud-darkness throws her pup-pup-pall
Across the path on which I kuk-kuk-crawl
To reach my gug-gug-goal-your love sublime.
The dud-dud-day is done, still up I climb,
And brave the sh-sh-shadows that inthrall
My lul-lul-love for you, my own, my all,
The inspiration of my rah-rah-rhyme.
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