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- Tobogganing On Parnassus - 5/17 -

Yet though my lamp burns low and dim, Though I must slave for livelihood-- Think you that I would change with him? You bet I would!


_ Love me to-night! Fold your dear arms around me-- Hurt me--I do but glory in your might! Tho' your fierce strength absorb, engulf, and drown me, Love me to-night!

The world's wild stress sounds less than our own heart-beat Its puny nothingness sinks out of sight. Just you and I and Love alone are left, sweet-- Love me to-night!

Love me to-night! I care not for to-morrow-- Look in my eyes, aglow with Love's own light: Full soon enough will come daylight, and sorrow-- Love me to-night! _ --BEATRICE M. BARRY, in the _Banquet Table_.

We can't to-night! We're overworked and busy; We've got a lot of paragraphs to write; Although your invitation drives us dizzy, We can't to-night!

But, Trixie, we admit we're greatly smit with The heart you picture--incandescent, white. We must confess that you have made a hit with Us here to-night.

O Beatrice! O Tempora! O Heaven! List to our lyre the while the strings we smite; Where shall you be at--well, say half-past seven To-morrow night?

Those Two Boys

When Bill was a lad he was terribly bad. He worried his parents a lot; He'd lie and he'd swear and pull little girls' hair; His boyhood was naught but a blot.

At play and in school he would fracture each rule-- In mischief from autumn to spring; And the villagers knew when to manhood he grew He would never amount to a thing.

When Jim was a child he was not very wild; He was known as a good little boy; He was honest and bright and the teacher's delight-- To his mother and father a joy.

All the neighbours were sure that his virtue'd endure, That his life would be free of a spot; They were certain that Jim had a great head on him And that Jim would amount to a lot.

And Jim grew to manhood and honour and fame And bears a good name; While Bill is shut up in a dark prison cell-- You never can tell.


The Passionate Householder to his Love

Come, live with us and be our cook, And we will all the whimsies brook That German, Irish, Swede, and Slav And all the dear domestics have.

And you shall sit upon the stoop What time we go and cook the soup, And you shall hear, both night and day, Melodious pianolas play.

And we will make the beds, of course, You'll have two autos and a horse, A lady to Marcel your tresses, And all the madame's half-worn dresses.

Your gowns shall be of lace and silk, Your laving shall be done in milk. Two trained physicians when you cough, And Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays off.

When you are mashing Irish spuds You'll wear the very finest duds. If good to you these prospects look, Come, live with us and be our cook.

On callers we have put no stops, We love the iceman and the cops, And no alarm clock with its ticks And bell to ring at half-past six.

O Gretchen, Bridget, Hulda, Mary, Come, be our genius culinary. If good to you these prospects look, Come, live with us and be our cook.

The Servants

With genuflexions to Kipling's _"The Ladies"_

We've taken our cooks where we've found 'em; We've answered many an ad; We've had our pickin' o' servants, And most of the lot was bad. Some was Norahs an' Bridgets; Tillie she came last fall; Claras and Fannies and Lenas and Annies, And now we've got none at all.

Now, we don't know much about servants, For, takin' 'em all along, You never can tell till you've tried 'em, And then you are like to be wrong. There's times when you'll think that they're perfect; There's times when you'll think that they're bum, But the things you'll learn from those that have gone May help you with those to come.

Norah, she landed from Dublin, Green as acushla machree; Norah was willing and anxious To learn what a servant should be. We told Mrs. Kirk all about her-- She offered her seven more per-- Now Norah she works, as you know, for the Kirks-- And we learned about servants from her.

Lena we got from an "office"; Lena was saving and Dutch-- Thought that our bills were enormous, And told us we spent far too much. Lena decamped with some silver, Jewelry, laces and fur-- She was loving and kind, with a Socialist mind-- And we learned about servants from her.

Tillie blew in from the Indies, Black as the middle of night-- Cooked like a regular Savarin-- Kitchen was shiny an' bright. Everything ran along lovely Until--it was bound to occur-- She ran away with a porter one day-- But we learned about servants from her.

We've taken our cooks where we've found them, Yellow and black and white; Some was better than others, But none of the lot was right. And the end of it's only worry And trouble and bother and fuss-- When you answer an ad., think of those we have had And learn about servants from us.

Our Dum'd Animals

What time I seek my virtuous couch to steal Some surcease from the labours of the day, Ere silence like a poultice comes to heal-- In short, when I prepare to hit the hay; Ere slumber's chains (I quote from Moore) have bound me, I hear a lot of noises all around me.

Time was when falling off the well-known log Were harder far than falling off to sleep; But that was ere my neighbour's gentle dog Began to think he was defending sheep. From twelve to two his barking and his howling Accompanies two torn cats' nightly yowling.

At two-ten sharp the parrot in the flat Across the way his monologue essays. At three, again, as Gilbert says, the cat; At four a milkman's horse, exulted, neighs. At six-fifteen, nor does it ever vary, I hear the dulcet tones of a canary.

Tobogganing On Parnassus - 5/17

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