LIBRARY 
 
 Garden 
 
P3 
 3515 
 
 CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME 
 OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT 
 FUND GIVEN IN 1891 BY 
 
 HENRY WILLIAMS SAGE 
 
PS 3515.E66509""'*"'"' ^"""' 
 
 ° m«iiiiiiiiiiiii?.,ate. et caetera / 
 
 3 1924 022 471 951 
 
7^. ^ 
 
The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022471951 
 
OVERHEARD IN A GARDEN 
 
^ookct bp (BiiMev ^etforU. 
 
 A CHILD'S PRIMER OF NATURAL HISTORY. 
 
 Illustrated by the author. Small 4to. $1.25. 
 
 THE BASHFUL EARTHQUAKE. With many illus- 
 trations by the author, izmo. Si. 25. 
 
 Altogether, Mr. Herford's drollery is a boon. He is 
 worthy — and this is saying much — of the traditions of 
 Edward Lear and Lewis Carroll. His nonsense is in 
 sympathy with their nonsense. — TAe N. V. Triintne. 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, Publishers. 
 
Overheaj*d 
 
 Q>tCoetera^ 
 
 3y 
 
 Oliver Herford 
 
 Vm£ o/zeinres 
 
 "New York • Publbhed by 
 
 Choirles Scribixerj Son5 
 
Copyright, igoo, by 
 OLIVER HERFORD 
 
 UNIVERSITY PRESS . JOHN WILSON 
 AND SON . CAMBRIDGE . V. S. A. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 I OVERHEAKD IN A GARDEN 
 
 PAfiK 
 
 Tell-Talb 1 
 
 Gossip 4 
 
 A Hopeless Case 5 
 
 The Fall of the Rose 9 
 
 Scandal 10 
 
 The Quarrel 12 
 
 A Butterfly of Fashion 15 
 
 A Stmphonette 19 
 
 II NOT IN THE GARDEN 
 
 Moon-struck 27 
 
 A Calendar of Discontent : 
 
 Spring 28 
 
 Summer 29 
 
 Autumn 30 
 
 Winter 31 
 
 LicsE Majest:^ 33 
 
 A Decadent 34 
 
 Love and Time 35 
 
 A Tragedy in Rhyme 38 
 
 A New- Yorker 42 
 
 The Plagiarist 47 
 
 A Butterfly Girl 49 
 
 V 
 
Pa&e 
 
 The Missing Link 50 
 
 The Strikb 53 
 
 A Little Chaptbk on Spokt : 
 
 Pig-Sticking 60 
 
 The FOX-H0NT 61 
 
 A Deee-Hunt 62 
 
 Coursing 63 
 
 III BUBBLES 
 
 A Plea 66 
 
 Toast and Water 66 
 
 DUM ViVIMUS 67 
 
 On the Brink 67 
 
 To A Girl 67 
 
 Memories 68 
 
 Nil Desperanddm 68 
 
 To A Chapbkonb 68 
 
 Two Out of Time 71 
 
 CURTAIN CALLS 
 
 The Explanation 87 
 
 The Wandering Jew 88 
 
 Horace 90 
 
 Jonah 92 
 
 Ladt Macbeth 94 
 
 GODIVA 96 
 
 Desdemona 98 
 
 Eve 100 
 
 Cleopatra 102 
 
 vi 
 
I 
 
 OVERHEARD 
 in a GARDEN 
 
cy^HE Bubble winked at me and said, 
 m 'II m 
 dead.' 
 
 I 
 
 -*■ "loM 'II miss me, brother, when you 're 
 
TELL-TALE 
 
 The Lily whispered to the Eose : 
 " The Tulip 's fearfully stuck up. 
 
 You 'd think, to see the creature's pose, 
 She were a golden altar-cup. 
 
 There 's method in her boldness, too; 
 
 She catches twice her share of Dew." 
 1 1 
 
The Eose into the Tulip's ear 
 
 Murmured: "The Lily is a sight; 
 
 Don't you believe she powders, dear, 
 To make herself so saintly white ? 
 
 She takes some trouble, it is plain, 
 
 Her reputation to sustain." 
 
 Said Tulip to the Lily white : 
 
 " About the Eose — what do you think ? — 
 Her color ? Should you say it 's quite — 
 
 Well, quite a natural shade of pink ? " 
 " Natural ! " the Lily cried. " Good Saints! 
 Why, everybody knows she paints ! " 
 2 
 
GOSSIP 
 
 The news around the garden flew : 
 
 Last night the Kose was robbed — A flower 
 Was filched from, her and flung into 
 
 Hie casement of my Lady's bower. 
 
 The flowers were mystified. In vain 
 They asked of one another, " Pray, 
 
 What ails our Lady of Disdain 
 That she must wear a Rose to-day ? " 
 
 The Daisy, with her latest breath, 
 'Reft of her petals, whispered low, 
 
 " It is a secret to the Death ; 
 I gave my petals all to know." 
 
A HOPELESS CASE 
 
 Her sisters shunned her, half in fear 
 And half in pity. " 'T is too bad 
 
 She is not made as we — poor dear ! " 
 (Eour leaves instead of Three she had.) 
 
 Said Doctor Bee : " Her case is rare 
 And due to Influence prenatal. 
 
 To amputate I would not dare, 
 The operation might be fatal. 
 5 
 
"With Rest and Care and Simple Food 
 She may outlive both you and me ; 
 
 A change of scene might do her good." 
 (One bag of Honey was his fee.) 
 
 "Take me! take me! " the clovers cry, 
 To a maid bending wistful-eyed. 
 
 With gentle hand she puts them by, 
 Till all but one are passed aside. 
 
Before her sisters' wondering eyes 
 Her leaves with kisses are told over. 
 
 " At last! at last! " the maiden cries, 
 
 "I've found you, little four-leaved clover." 
 
THE FALL OF THE KOSE 
 HAT the First Bee sang, who knows 
 When he tempted the First Rose ? 
 Some such tale the Flowers believe, 
 As the Serpent told to Eve. 
 Only this the Roses know : 
 Petals once as white as snow 
 To a burning crimson grew, 
 As her Loveliness she knew. 
 Then it was a leaf she took 
 Out of Eve's own fashion-book ; 
 And from Eden's mosses wove 
 An apron chaste. In vain she strove, 
 For in that veil of emerald lace 
 The Moss Rose found an added grace. 
 9 
 
SCANDAL 
 
 FoK all the Morning Glory's airs, 
 She has the instincts of a Weed; 
 
 To-day I caught her unawares 
 Kissing a Squash — I did indeed. 
 
 But don't repeat it," said the Bose, 
 Then told the Pint, who told the Bee, 
 Who said, "T '11 see to it, it goes 
 No farther." Then he told it me. 
 
 :-^;^'^-^> 
 
 -<> 
 
 10 
 
 «*^' 
 
Said I, " It is a shame, O Bee ! 
 
 To circulate such arrant Bosh ; 
 And if it 's true — it 's plain to see 
 
 You 're only jealous of the Squash; 
 
 11 
 
THE QUAEEEL 
 
 The Laurel started the affair, 
 Calling the Eose a vain coquette. 
 
 The Eose replied she did not care 
 
 What people thought, outside her set. 
 
 " Eaith, you speak true! " the Laurel cried, 
 ' ' Eoses and Laurels only meet 
 
 When on the Hero's head we ride, 
 And you are tossed heneath his feet." 
 12 
 
l^^^ 
 
 The Eose retorted, "I could name 
 
 More than one Hero who threw down 
 His precious Laurel wreath of fame i \ 
 
 For just one Eose from Beauty's crown." 
 
 i 
 
 ■A 
 
 The Laurel frowned, " 'T is as you say, 
 And yet it cannot be gainsaid, 
 
 Their Laurels are undimmed to-day 
 Save by the Folly of that trade." 
 13 
 
"Your reasoning 's false! " exclaimed the Boae, 
 " Your premises are falser yet ; 
 Your sentiment is all a pose! 
 
 Besides — you are not in my set ! " 
 
 MOBAL 
 
 'Twixt Duty, here below, and Love, 
 Alas ! we see a great gulf fixed ; 
 
 Perhaps they 're Introduced Above, 
 In Heaven, society is mixed. 
 
 14 
 
A BUTTEEFLY OF FASHION 
 
 A REAL Butterfly, I mean, 
 
 With Orange-pointed saffron wings 
 And coat of inky Velveteen — 
 
 None of your Fashion-plated Things 
 
 That dangle from the Apronstrings 
 Of Mrs. Grundy — or you see 
 
 Loll by the Stage Door or the Wings, 
 Or sadly flit from Tea to Tea. 
 
 Not such a Butterfly was he ; 
 
 He lived for Sunshine and the Hour ; 
 He did not flit from Tea to Tea, 
 
 But gayly flew from Flower to Flower. 
 15 
 
One Day there came a Thunder Shower — 
 
 An Open Window he espied. 
 He fluttered in ; behold, a Mower ! 
 
 An Azure Rose with petals wide. 
 
 He did not linger to decide 
 
 Which Flower ; there was no other there. 
 He calmly settled down inside 
 
 That Eose, and no one said " Beware / " 
 
 There was no Friend to say, " Take care ! "' 
 How ever, then, could he suppose 
 
 This Blossom, of such Color Eare, 
 Was just an Artificial Eose ? 
 
 All might have ended well — who knows ? — 
 But just then some one chanced to say ; 
 
 " The very Latest Thing ! That Base 
 In Paris is the Bage To-day." 
 
 No Eose of such a Tint outre 
 
 Was ever seen in Garden Bed; 
 The Butterfly had such a Gay, 
 
 Chromatic Sense, it turned his head. 
 16 
 
" r/ie Veri/ Latest Thing ?" he said; 
 
 "Long have I sighed for something New ! 
 Roses Yellow, White, and Red, 
 
 Let others sip ; mine shall be Blue I " 
 
 The Flavor was not Nice, 't is true 
 (He felt a Pain inside his Waist). 
 
 "It is not well to overdo," 
 
 Said he, " a just-acquired taste." 
 
 The Shower passed ; he joined in haste 
 His friends. With condescension great, 
 
 Said he, "I fear your time you waste; 
 Real Roses are quite out of date." 
 
 He argued early, argued late, 
 
 Till what was erst a Harmless Pose 
 
 Grew to a Fierce, Inordinate 
 Craving for Artificial Eose. 
 
 He haunted Garden Parties, Shows, 
 
 Wherever Ladies Congregate, 
 And in their Bonnets thrust his nose 
 
 His Craving Fierce to Satiate. 
 
 2 17 
 
At last he chanced, sad to relate, 
 Into a Caterer's with his Pose, 
 
 And there Pneumonia was his Fate 
 From sitting/ on an Ice Cream Hose. 
 
 Eeader, shun the Harmless Pose. 
 
 They buried him, with scant lament, 
 Beneath a Common Brier-Rose, 
 
 And wrote : 
 
 Here Lies a Decadent. 
 
 18 
 
Why, oh why 
 Do you sigh, 
 
 Violets ? 
 On joyful wings 
 The hlackbird sings 
 
 Chanson ettes. 
 Now spring is here, 
 Old winter drear 
 
 He forgets. 
 19 
 
THE VIOLETS : 
 
 He may sing, 
 He can fly 
 On his wing 
 To the sky. 
 We must stay, 
 Live and die, 
 Here alway, 
 In this wood, 
 Misunderstood, 
 Oh to fly! 
 We are nigh 
 Sick to death 
 Of the trees 
 And the vines, 
 And the breath 
 Of the pines 
 In the breese. 
 
 u 
 
 ALLEGRETTO 
 
 Change of scene. 
 Gone the sad 
 Woods of green. 
 20 
 
Beneath the glad 
 Electric sheen 
 Of Broadway, 
 Violets gay 
 Take their way 
 To the Play 
 In a bouquet. 
 
 Ill 
 
 SCHEEZO 
 
 Madcap Play, 
 Merry strife. 
 Chorus gay. 
 Viol, fife. 
 Hip, Hurray ! 
 This is life ! 
 
 Fairy scene. 
 Plash of gauze, 
 Pink, now green. 
 Wild applause — 
 She comes ! The Queen ! I 
 21 
 
THE VIOLETS : 
 
 Hark, she sings / 
 Oh, ecstasy I 
 Oh for wings I 
 Ohtofly! 
 For the bliss 
 Of one kiss 
 We could die I 
 
 Breathless flight, 
 Swift as light, 
 Oh, rapturous night ! 
 They 'light, they rest. 
 Tranquil, serene. 
 Upon the breast 
 Of the Elf Queen. 
 
ADAGIO 
 
 THE VIOLETS: 
 
 Tossed aside, 
 None to care. 
 Where, oh, where 
 Shall we hide ? 
 
 Fitful glare, 
 Deserted street, 
 Blank despair ! 
 A sound of feet ! 
 
 Oh, tired feet ! 
 
 Will they spurn ? 
 
 They retreat, 
 
 They pause — they turn ! 
 
 Face flower-pale. 
 Clasp flower-frail, 
 Kisses that burn 
 And chill by turn. 
 Eyes dim with pain. 
 
 VIOLETS : 
 
 Whence that warm rain ? 
 23 
 
INTERMEZZO 
 
 " Nay, tempt not Fate ! 
 'T is not too late ! 
 We die ! But you 
 May live anew. 
 Ah, do not wait ! 
 'T is not too late 
 Yet to retrace 
 And turn aside," 
 The Violets cried, 
 Close to her face. 
 
 FINALE 
 
 Time has flown. 
 In a glade 
 Violet-strewn 
 Sings a maid 
 Soft and low. 
 In the glade 
 Where they grow, 
 Bending so 
 Very near, 
 The Violets hear 
 And they know. 
 
 24 
 
II 
 
 NOT IN THE GARDEN 
 
-.M#. 
 
 '■^^^^ 
 
 
MOON-STRUCK 
 
 I WATCHED the moon let down her hair 
 
 In ripples on the sea. 
 She loosed each diamond pin with care 
 
 And stuck it carefully 
 In the dark pin-cushion of sky. 
 
 "Ah, noiv," I said, "I know the why 
 And wherefore of the stars. 
 
 I always used to think at night. 
 To see them shine, they were the light 
 
 Of seraphim's cigars. 
 Now I have learned, and none too soon, 
 
 They are the Hairpins of the Moon." 
 27 
 
A CALENDAK OF DISCONTENT 
 
 SPRING 
 
 Too well I know you, Spring, and so restrain 
 My foolish muse from all such flatterings vain 
 As " mild" and " gentle " — • lest I be repaid, 
 Even as Marsyas of old, and flayed. 
 This time by icy hail and cutting sleet. 
 Instead — I pray your going may be fleet, 
 That soon I may forget and drowse away 
 My weariness beneath Dear Summer's sway. 
 28 
 

 //fin ' /--.y 
 
 
 '\n>-- '(cV? 
 
 '^^^: 
 
 
 -^-r-l ■,.-;»-..', 
 
 SUMMER 
 
 Insufferable season of the Sun, 
 
 When will your endless reign of fire be done ? 
 
 "When will your noisy insect court take flight ? 
 
 Your orchestra that rests not, — day or night ; 
 
 Your armies with unconquerable stings; 
 
 When will they flee — what for do they have 
 
 wings ? 
 How long before brave Autumn, with a shout, 
 Will succor me and put them all to rout ? 
 29 
 
You dismal mourner, wailing by the bier 
 Of Summer dead, with lamentations drear. 
 Driving me frantic ever and anon. 
 With reminiscences of Summer gone, — 
 Now mimicking her tenderest airs and tones, 
 Now harrowing me with horrid shrieks and 
 
 groans, — 
 Were good old jolly Winter only here, 
 I'd soon forget you and your evil cheer ! 
 30 
 
HoAET impostor ! with mock jovial air, 
 You took the green earth prisoner unaware, 
 And pinioned the trees that moan and call 
 To Spring to free them from your icy thrall. 
 You manacled the stream, who tugs in vain 
 To loose himself from your relentless chain. 
 And I — my heart is sad, my lyre is dumh; 
 Mild, Gentle Spring, — oh ! will you ever come ! 
 31 
 
,' I 
 
 <r -</^. 
 
 32 
 
LESE MAJESTE 
 
 The Lion ramps around the cage, 
 
 The Lady smiles to see him rage. 
 
 The little Mouse outside the bars 
 
 Looks on and laughs. " Well, bless my stars ! " 
 
 Quoth he, " to think they call that thing 
 
 The King of Beasts ! If he 's a King, 
 
 Who cannot make the Lady wince, 
 
 What must 7 be ? When, not long since, 
 
 Inside the cage I chanced to slip, 
 
 You should have seen that Lady skip 
 
 Upon the Lion's back. ' Help ! Murder ! 
 
 A Mouse!' she screamed; you should have heard 
 
 her ! 
 And then with brooms the keepers came 
 And drove me out (but, all the same, 
 I got the crumb that I was after). 
 A King indeed ! Excuse my laughter ! " 
 
 33 
 
A DECADENT 
 
 Realities to Him are Cold and Stern, 
 He loves from Nature's Crudities to turn 
 
 To the Sweet Unrealities of Art 
 
 And all Her Tinkling Symbolism learn. 
 
 For Him there is no Rose at the Fleuriste 
 Vies with the Rose of CrSpe of the Modiste 
 
 And Paradise, without a Milliner 
 
 He vows would be unutterably Triste. 
 
 34 
 
LOVE AND TIME 
 
 Love stole Time's hour-glass one day 
 (It happened he was out of hearts), 
 
 And set it up beside the way, 
 To be a target for his darts. 
 
 At length but one of all his quiver 
 
 Remained (some glanced and some fell wide) ; 
 He shot the last — Time saw it shiver 
 
 His glass. "What have you done ? " he cried. 
 35 
 
In vain Love pieced the broken parts. 
 
 The sand would not run true, alas ! 
 Cried Time : " Confound you and your 
 darts ! 
 
 Now I must get another glass." 
 
 So ever since, to mark his shooting, 
 Love kept the glass that Time refused. 
 
 And lovers ever since, computing, 
 
 The hours with minutes have confused. 
 
 36 
 
37 
 
A TRAGEDY IN EHYME 
 
 These was a man upon a time 
 Who could not speak except in rhyme. 
 He could not voice his smallest wish, 
 He could not order soup or fish. 
 He could not hail a passing car, 
 He could not ask for a cigar, — 
 And let a rhymeless sentence mar 
 His speech. He could not vent despair, 
 Anger, or rage — he could not swear, 
 38 
 
He could not even have his say 
 On common topics of the day. 
 The dreadful cold — the awful heat, 
 The rise in coal, the fall in wheat, 
 He could not rise to give his seat 
 In crowded car to maiden sweet. 
 Or buy a paper in the street, — 
 Except in measured, rhyming feet. 
 " He must have been a man of means ! 
 In this, the age of magazines ! " 
 I hear you say. Ah, reader, wait 
 Till you have heard his awful fate. 
 You will not then expatiate 
 
 Upon his fortune. — 
 39 
 
Well, one night 
 A burglar came, and at the sight, 
 The rhymester took a fearful fright. 
 The only avenue for flight 
 Was up the chimney; here he climbed 
 Until he stuck, and then he rhymed 
 As follows : — 
 
 " Goodness gracious me 1 
 I^w, stuck as tight as tight can be ! 
 Oh, dear, I 'm in an awful plight. 
 I cannot budge to left or right, 
 Or up or down this awful chimney ! " 
 Then he was stuck ; had he said " Jimm'ny ! " 
 It would have saved him many a pang. 
 But no ! he could not stoop to slang. 
 In vain he writhed and racked his brain 
 For rhymes to " chimney." 
 40 
 
It was 
 He had to rhyme — for should he cease 
 He must forever hold his peace. 
 He tried to shout, he tried to call. 
 The truth fell on him like a pall. 
 There is n't any rhyme at all 
 To "chimney." — 
 
 When they searched the room 
 They found it silent as a tomb. 
 For years they advertised in vain 
 They never heard of him again. 
 
 41 
 
A NEW-YOEKER 
 
 " Breathes there a man with soul so dead 
 Who never to himself hath said, 
 ' Thii is my own my native land ' ?" 
 
 Walter ScOtt. 
 
 The man of whom I sing was not 
 Cast in the mould of Walter Scott. 
 
 Van Hatton Jones O'Rorke 
 Sighs never for his native loam ; 
 Where'er his feet may chance to roam 
 He feels ahout as much at home 
 
 As in his own New York. 
 42 
 
Says he, "No matter where I go, 
 Erom Baffin's Bay to Borneo, 
 
 From Kandahar to Cork; 
 From pole to pole, from sea to sea - 
 No matter where on earth I be — 
 Something I find reminding me 
 
 Of little old New York." 
 
 In Switzerland 't is his delight 
 To sit upon an Alp at night, 
 
 "Because," as he explains, 
 "The avalanches I adore, 
 As down the mountain side they pour. 
 They call to mind the fitful roar 
 
 Of elevated trains." 
 43 
 
The Indian jungle, dank 
 and dim, 
 A fascination has for him ; 
 He is not scared at all 
 To see a fearful tiger spring. 
 But claps his hands like anything 
 And makes the silent jungle ring 
 With cheers for Tammany Hall. 
 
 In Hong Kong — in Jerusalem — 
 He weeps with joy, for each of them, 
 Freighted with memories sweet, 
 44 
 
The one with almond eyes and cues, 
 So too the other with its Jews 
 The recollection fond renews 
 Of Mott or Baxter Street. 
 
 45 
 
On Nicaragua's riven rocks, 
 
 Furrowed and rent by earthquake shocks, 
 
 He'll gaze the livelong day. 
 For in their chasms deep and wide, 
 With earth torn up on either side. 
 He can not but recall with pride 
 
 His own dear old Broadway. 
 
 E'en as I write there comes to me 
 A letter (dated Ashantee) 
 
 Telling of his decease. 
 "A savage tribe" the letter saith, 
 " With cruel clubs heat him to death, — 
 Exclaiming with his latest breath, 
 
 ' How like our brave Police ! ' " 
 
 46 
 
?Clusteks of grapes on a 
 
 lofty tree; 
 "Pooh! " said the Fox, 
 
 " too sour for me ! " 
 Just then an inspiration 
 
 came — 
 On a low branch he 
 
 placed his name. 
 Happening soon a Crow 
 
 to spy, 
 
 " Nice grapes ! " he cried. 
 
 "Miss, won't you buy.?"' 
 Said she, " I '11 buy, and 
 
 pay you well. 
 Only, first, prove they 're 
 
 yours to sell." 
 "No fear!" he cried, 
 
 " behold my name! " 
 
 MOBAL 
 
 No grapes too high /or some 
 to claim ! 
 
 47 
 
 \:^^■i\ 
 
48 
 
A BUTTERFLY GIRL 
 
 Thet tell me I 
 Am like (oh, my ! 
 I wonder why) 
 A butterfly! 
 
 / cannot fly ! 
 No wings have L 
 And butterflies 
 They are not wise 
 As I, who say 
 My ABC 
 (As far as K) 
 Fast as can be I 
 
 I cannot see, 
 How it can be, 
 I cannot guess. 
 Unless — unless — 
 May be — why, yes ! 
 He, too, like me, 
 Loves so to press 
 His little nose 
 Into a rose. 
 49 
 
THE MISSING LINK. 
 
 There was chattering and jabbering and bellowing 
 
 and growling, 
 And the sound of many waters and of many 
 
 creatures howling, 
 As the voices of creation all were lifted up together 
 In a universal chorus — " Did you ever see such 
 
 weather ? " 
 
 Beside the rail, despite the gale, 
 
 Old Noah took each ticket, 
 And registered each Beast and Bird 
 
 That passed inside the wicket. 
 
 And when at last they had made fast 
 As much as they could stow away. 
 
 He cried " Let go ! cut loose ! yo ho ! 
 Hoist gang ! avast ! heave ho — away ! " 
 
 With heave and yank, up came the plank, 
 
 A-straining and a-creaking, 
 When, rising o'er the wind and roar. 
 
 They heard two voices shrieking, — 
 
 m 
 
" Take us aboard ! You can't afford 
 
 So cruelly to flout us ! 
 We are a pair extremely rare ; 
 
 No ark 's complete without us." 
 
 Down went the gang, and up there sprang 
 Before them, through the curtain 
 
 Of blinding rain, the oddest twain, 
 Of genus most uncertain. 
 
 They 'd human shape, yet like the ape 
 
 Were caudally appended ; 
 And, strange to tell, their feet as well. 
 
 Like apes', in fingers ended. 
 
 Quoth Noah, " Pray, who are you — say? 
 
 Human, or anthropoidal ? " 
 " You takes your choice ! " as with one voice 
 
 They cried; which so annoyed all 
 
 The apes on board with one accord 
 They screamed for indignation ; 
 
 'T was very clear they would not hear 
 Of any such relation. 
 
 Said Noah, " Though, you 're rare, I know 
 
 You 're not for my collection ; 
 And though not vain, I must refrain 
 
 From claiming the connection. 
 51 
 
With small regret, the pair he set 
 On shore mid cheers and hissing, 
 
 And that's the way it comes to-day 
 The Missing Link is missing. 
 
 52 
 
THE STRIKE. 
 
 One Mr. William Thingum Tite, 
 
 His young wife's patience sorely tried; 
 
 She called her boy, as well she might, 
 Untidiness Peesonified. 
 
 Whene'er he went to bed 
 at night, 
 He never put his things 
 away. 
 But tossed his clothes to 
 left or right, 
 And where they feU 
 He let them 
 stay 
 
Now, worms are not the only folk 
 That, when exasperated, turn. 
 
 Clothes, too, will turn (that's not a joke), 
 As from this narrative you '11 learn. 
 
 One night, when Mr. William lay 
 Wrapped in the arms of Morpheus, 
 
 His clothes a meeting held, that they 
 Their sad condition might discuss. 
 
 The Roll Call first of all was read, 
 
 And when 't was found that all were there. 
 
 Since he came nearest to the head. 
 To Derby Hat they gave the chair. 
 
"My Fellow Garments ! " he began, 
 When every one at last was still, 
 
 " Let us put down the tyrant man ! " 
 
 As with one voice they cried, " We will ! " 
 
 " He calls himself Creation's Lord, 
 But were it not for me and you, 
 
 What would he do ? " With one accord 
 The meeting cried, " What could he do ? " 
 
 " How could he go to hall or hop. 
 
 Or even walk the avenues ? ' ' 
 " Why, hut for us he'd have to stop 
 
 At home, of course ! " exclaimed the Shoes. 
 65 
 
" Supposing, on the street, perhaps, 
 
 He met a lady that he knew — 
 How could he how ? " The Hats and Caps 
 
 Shouted in unison, " That 's true ! " 
 
 " How could he even offer her 
 
 His hand in saying, ' How d 'ye do ' ? 
 
 You know to whom I now refer! " 
 
 " We do ! " exclaimed the Gloves. « We do ! " 
 
 "And what is more, if we were not 
 Good Form," concluded Derby Hat, 
 
 " How ever from the common lot 
 
 Could he be told ? Now tell me that ! " 
 
A Resolution then, proposed 
 By Oxford Shoe, and seconded 
 
 By White Cravat (no one opposed), 
 Was passed — and this is how it read : 
 
 Whereas, one William Thingum Tite, 
 Has shown himself for clothes unfit, 
 
 Whereas, we, Undersigned, this night 
 Are painfully aware of it ; 
 
 Whereas, said William never pays 
 
 Us the attention that we like ; 
 Resolved, unless he mend his ways. 
 
 We, Undersigned, His Clothes, will strike ! 
 
 57 
 
The Kesolution being framed, 
 
 And signed and sealed that very night, 
 A deputation then was named 
 
 To wait on William Thingum Tite. 
 
 When William rose next day he wore 
 A somewhat sad and thoughtful air. 
 
 Picking his clothes from off the floor, 
 
 He smoothed them out with greatest care. 
 
 You would not know young William Tite 
 If now he chanced to meet your eye ; 
 
 He is a vision of delight ; 
 
 He keeps a valet, — that is why. 
 
 58 
 
A LITTLE CHAPTER 
 ON SPORT 
 
PIG-STICKING- 
 
 Oh, see the Boar dash through the Brake! 
 He knows good Sport, and no mis-take ! 
 Ah ! now he turns and kills a Dog. 
 He is a Vicious, Brutal Hog ! 
 He has the temper of a Rat. 
 But soon they '11 give him tit-for-tat. 
 My Child, this teaches how Unwise 
 It is to let your Temper rise. 
 (10 
 
THE FOX-HUXT 
 
 Oh, Fdx. you 've had a mevry run. 
 In all tlie world there's no such fan 
 As nver Fields and Fences free 
 To chase a Spm-ty Fox. and be 
 First at the Death. In Wood or Field 
 What can mure Healthy Pleasure yield 
 Than this ? 
 
 What say you, Curlylocks ? 
 W^ell, no! — perhaps not, to the Fox! 
 61 
 
<»i 
 
 A DEER-HUXT 
 
 The Hunters Horn sounds Bright and Clear 
 The Hunters raise a merry cheer. 
 But why is !Mr. Stag so Sad ? 
 Sport is a thing to make one Glad. 
 He seems about to shed a Tear, 
 Just when the Height of Sport is near. 
 If he can swim a few Strokes more, 
 I fear that he will gain the Shore, 
 And then, if he should get iivaij, 
 The Sport is Euined for To-day. 
 02 
 
COUESI^'G 
 
 The Hare is off, he does not lag! 
 
 He 's glad to leave the stuffy Bag, 
 
 And play a little game of Tag. 
 
 Will the Hare win ? Oh, not at all. 
 
 He cannot go beyond that wall. 
 
 Ah, now he 's caught ! Why does he Squeal 
 
 So very loud ? He makes me feel 
 
 Quite Qiiei')' ! 
 
 The Hare, my Child, is Short 
 Of Brains. He does not know it 's Sport. 
 63 
 
o 
 
 a 
 
Ill 
 
 BUBBLES 
 
A PLEA 
 
 God made Man 
 
 Frail as a bubble ; 
 God made Love, 
 
 Love made Trouble. 
 God made the Vine, 
 
 Was it a sin 
 That Man made Wine 
 
 To drown Trouble in ? 
 
 TOAST AND WATER 
 
 Here 's to old A-dam's crystal ale, 
 Clear, sparkling, and divine. 
 Eair HjO, long may you flow ! 
 We drink your health (in wine). 
 66 
 
DUM VIVIMUS 
 
 Yesterday's yesterday while to-day's here, 
 To-day is to-day till to-morrow appear, 
 To-morrow 's to-morrow until to-day 's past, 
 And kisses are kisses as long as they last. 
 
 ON THE BRINK 
 
 If all your beauties, one by one, 
 I pledge, dear, I am thinking 
 
 Before the tale were well begun 
 I had been dead of drinking. 
 
 TO A GIRL 
 
 Here 's lovers two to the maiden true, 
 And four to the maid caressing, 
 
 But the wayward girl with the lips that curl 
 Keeps twenty lovers guessing. 
 67 
 
MEMORIES 
 
 Kisses tender, kisses cold, 
 Kisses timid, kisses bold, 
 Kisses joyful, kisses sad. 
 Pass the bowl or I '11 go mad. 
 
 NIL DESPEEANDUM 
 
 Don't die of love ; in heaven above 
 Or hell they '11 not endure you ; 
 
 Why look so glum when Doctor Rum 
 Is waiting for to cure you ? 
 
 TO A CHAPEEONE 
 
 Here 's to the chaperone, 
 May she learn from Cupid 
 
 Just enough blindness 
 To be sweetly stupid. 
 68 
 
TWO OUT OF TIME 
 
TWO OUT OF TIME 
 
 Time. — A mixture of the Fifteenth and Nineteenth Centuries. 
 Scene. — A Forest. Large tree at centre. At foot of tree 
 
 remains of small picnic spread — half emptied champagne 
 
 glasses, white cloth, etc., etc. Faint music whenever Shepherd 
 
 speaks. 
 
 Persons : 
 CoRTDON. — A Shepherd of the Fifteenth Century. 
 Madeleine. — Leading Lady of the Pinero Theatre. 
 
 (Sound of the Shepherd's pipe in distance and approaching.) 
 
 {Enter Corydon playing on pipe. He stops playing, stretches 
 
 his arms, and yawns.) 
 
 COETDON. 
 
 Where can they be — my sheep ? I must have slept 
 
 A moon at least, that they have strayed so far. 
 
 A. murrain on them ! If I had but kept, 
 
 The while I was asleep, one eye ajar, 
 
 I would not now be wondering where they are. 
 
 ( Yawns.) 
 Alack and well-a-day ! I feel so drear 
 As I had been asleep a hundred year, 
 And I have such an emptiness inside 
 71 
 
As tho' I 'd eaten naught since Christmastide. 
 I feel as empty as — what shall I say ? — 
 As a wine jug to him who hath no pay, 
 Empty as empty benches at a play, 
 Or as the heads of silly sheep that stray. 
 
 {Looks about in wonder.') 
 Whence came this mighty forest that I see ? 
 When I lay down to sleep there was no tree — 
 72 
 
Can it have sprung up in a single night ? 
 {Pauses. Then with terror.) 
 God grant I be not some accursed wight 
 Who lying down one night upon his bed 
 Awoke to find that centuries had fled. 
 
 ((Sfees .sheep's skull upon ground. Picks it up.) 
 Good Saints ! 'T is true — and centuries have flown. 
 Of all my flock is left but this poor bone. 
 Alas, poor Eameses ! I loved you well. 
 How oft I 've listened for your distant bell ; 
 How oft I 've heard your bleating on the plain. 
 Alas, I ne'er shall hear you bleat again. 
 
 (JEmotion.) 
 In sooth there 's no more joy in life for me, 
 I '11 lay me down and die beneath this tree. 
 
 ( Crosses to tree. Sees picnic spread. Starts. ) 
 Now, by our Lady ! what may this thing be ? 
 Marry, a feast ! 
 (Kneels down and picks up champagne glass half 
 
 full. Tastes. Is ainazed. ) 
 A feast for gods — the devil ! 
 
 {Drops glass. ) 
 Sure 't is the scene of some unholy revel 
 Of elves or fairies, witches, imps of hell. 
 (Tastes another glass.) 
 73 
 
Beshrew me, though, this witch's brew tastes well. 
 
 (Drains glass — smacks lips.') 
 Um, ! That was good. It hath a wondrous spell. 
 I vow that though the price of it were hell, 
 One soul per drink, 
 
 {Drinks.') 
 One drink per soul, methinks 
 I 'd pawn a score of souls for more such drinks. 
 {Drinks again. ) 
 
 {Enter Madeleine , 
 dressed in modern 
 shooting costume, 
 gun, etc. 
 Corydon starts.) 
 
 Have mercj' on us ! 
 
Angel — devil — troll — 
 
 Or fairy — if j'ou be ; oh, spare my soul ! 
 
 I did but touch my lips unto the bowl. 
 
 Madeleine. 
 Get up, for Heaven's sake ! What 's the matter 
 with you ? Are you crazy ? You look as if you 'd 
 come from a museum. Who are you, anyway ? 
 75 
 
COKYDON. 
 
 The shepherd Corydon, from yonder vale. 
 Once I led sheep across a grassy dale 
 Where now this forest stands, 
 
 Alack a day ! 
 
 Madeleine. 
 You lack a day, do you ? If what you say is true, 
 you lack three hundred years, my friend ! for some 
 of these trees are at least that old ! — 
 
 COKTDON. 
 
 Ah, woe is me ! — then what I feared is true ! 
 
 ( Pause. Amotion. ) 
 And who are you, good master — who are you ? 
 
 Madeleine. 
 What do you take me for ? I 'm no man, I 'm a 
 lady — an actress. I 'm visiting at the hall. Read 
 that if you don't helieve me ! 
 (^Pulls newspaper out of her pocket ; hands it.) 
 
 COEYDON. 
 
 (Looking astonished at paper ; holding it at arm's 
 
 length, and scratching his ?tead.) 
 Nay, but I cannot read, hut I should say 
 The scribe who penned it took full many a day 
 76 
 
And many a horn of ink for such a screed. 
 And 't is right clerkly penn'd — 
 Wilt please you, read. 
 
 Madeleine. 
 You idiot, this is n't writing — it 's printing. 
 
 COEYDON. 
 
 Printing — what 's that ? — 
 
 Madeleine. 
 Printing is the precious product of the press 
 agent. Listen ! 
 
 77 
 
{Seads.) 
 "Miss Madeleine Young, of the Pinero Stock 
 Company, is a guest at Tafton Hall, for Lady 
 Scamperwell's garden party." 
 {Stiffly.) 
 I am the actress. 
 
 COKYDON. 
 
 An actress — what 'a that ? 
 
 Madeleine. 
 An actress — a player. 
 
 COBTDON. 
 
 Good saints ! A mummer ! Prithee, what d 'ye 
 
 play — 
 A naughty queen, or an enchantress gay. 
 Or a pale princess fleeing for her life. 
 Or play you abbess — or the doctor's wife ? 
 
 Madeleine. 
 I am the leading lady. 
 
 CORYDON. 
 
 The leading lady ! Sakes ! What may you lead ? 
 Say, lady, what thrice happy flock is thine ? — 
 A herd of sheep, mayhap, or geese, or swine. 
 78 
 
Madeleine. 
 (Veri/ deliberately.) 
 Well — not exactly, and yet — But no! of 
 
 course not — I mean I play the leading parts 
 
 and keep the centre of the stage from every one 
 else. 
 
 {Pushing him off.) 
 
 COKVDON. 
 
 Oh, Marry ! Now I see, you wed the prince 
 Who saved you from the duke, who slew the queen 
 Who poisoned her stepfather, who seduced — 
 
 Madeleixe. 
 
 Nothing of the kind. We don't do any of those 
 stupid things nowadays. Besides, it 's comedy, not 
 tragedy. 
 
 CORTDON. 
 
 Ah, then you play a pretty shepherd maid 
 Who loves the shepherd and the bailiff's son, 
 And weds one of them when the play is done ! 
 
 Madeleine. 
 She 'd be more likely to wed them both in our 
 kind of play. 
 
 {Corydon makes gesture of horror.) 
 79 
 
COBYDON. 
 
 Perchance you play a shrew who beats her lord, 
 Who steals a kid, and feigns that he be daft, 
 And saving him from hanging, by your craft, 
 Live happy ever after. 
 
 Madeleine. 
 Oh, stuff! All that's changed in our plays. 
 The leading lady is married iu the first act, and 
 falls out of love at first sight in the second act, 
 and in the third act is divorced and lives happy 
 ever after. 
 
 CORTDON. 
 
 Divorced! What's that? 
 
 Madeleine. 
 That is the state of bliss every lady who truly 
 and sincerely hates her lord aspires to attain. 
 
 COETDON. 
 
 Call you that comedy ? It likes me not. 
 
 Where does the play come in — what do they plot ? 
 
 Madeleine. 
 
 The plot ! Oh, we 're past all that sort of thing. 
 
 They don't do anything in the play — that 's much 
 
 too simple. In the first act they talk about what 
 
 80 
 
they did before the play began. In the second act 
 they read telegrams from people who are doing 
 things elsewhere — and in the last act — 
 
 COKYDON. 
 
 I' faith, but I must be a stupid lout, 
 For I can't see what 's left to talk about. 
 
 Madeleine. 
 Why, in the last act they talk about what they 're 
 going to do when the play is over. 
 
 COEYDOU. 
 
 Sure this must be the Age of Talk — but, pray, 
 
 What precious talk is this, that folks will pay 
 
 To hear it ? 
 
 Madeleine. 
 
 Oh, for that matter, it does n't cut any ice if they 
 say nothing at all, as long as they say it cleverly. 
 
 CORYDON. 
 
 I hate your prating plays. Once I did play 
 
 A little part myself in a real play — 
 
 'T would crack no ice for you, though, as you say. 
 
 Madeleine. 
 
 {Laughing and mockina Mm — bowing very low. ) 
 
 Marry ! What play 'd you, sir — what might it be ? 
 
 81 
 
COBTDON. 
 
 A mystery play — of the Nativity. 
 
 Madeleine. 
 Who played the star part ? 
 
 COEYDON. 
 
 {^Beprovingly.) 
 Nay, do not jest, good lady, e'en in fun, 
 I played Third Shepherd in the place of one 
 That was too full of sack his lines to spell. 
 They picked me out because I play so well ! 
 {Proudly. ) 
 
 Madeleine. 
 So you were his understudy ? 
 
 CORTDON. 
 
 I know not what you mean, but this I know. 
 They told me if a-mumming I would go, 
 And con for years my lines till they went pat, 
 I 'd rise to be First Shepherd. 
 
 Madeleine. 
 ( With mock enthusiasm.) 
 Think of that! Dear me! How could you 
 refuse such a brilliant offer ? 
 82 
 
COBTDON. 
 
 'T is a long story, and as dull to thee 
 As any nineteenth-century play to me. 
 
 Madeleine. 
 
 Or one of your stuffy old mystery plays to me, 
 for that matter. 
 
 {Loohing at her watch.') 
 
 Great Heavens ! It 's four o'clock. We give a 
 performance this afternooon at Lady Scamperwell's 
 garden party on the lawn at five o'clock, and I 've 
 just time to get over and dress. I 'm quite charmed 
 to have met you. It is really wonderful — I can 
 scarcely believe you are real — by the way, perhaps 
 you 'd like to see the play ? 
 
 {Takes card out of her porte-monnaie and writes.) 
 Present this card at the lodge. The villagers 
 will all be there, and you may meet some of your 
 descendants — and you will see a play after your 
 own heart! 
 
 COKTDON. 
 
 Kight gladly will I go — tho' I be shamed 
 Of my torn frock. What may the play be named ? 
 83 
 
Madeleine. 
 We are going to do "As You I/ike It," by 
 William Shakespeare. 
 
 ( With a flourish.) 
 Be sure and come. Good-bye ! 
 (Exit Madeleine.) 
 
 COBTDOIf. 
 
 (Thoughtfully.) 
 
 By William Shakespeare, who may he be ? Nay, 
 
 'T is like enough some mawkish modern play. 
 
 There was no William Shakespeare (sceptically) 
 in my day. 
 
 The play is " As I Like It." Says she so ? 
 
 By all the saints how doth the lady know ? (Mus- 
 ingly. ) 
 
 Marry ! I '11 go, in sooth, that I may wot 
 
 If she speaks true. ( With a shrug.) 
 
 Mayhap, I '11 like it not ! (Exit.) 
 
 84 
 
CURTAIN CALLS 
 
 85 
 
THE EXPLANATION 
 
 THE WANDEEING JEW 
 
 HORACE 
 
 JONAH 
 
 LADY MACBETH 
 
 GODIVA 
 
 DESDEMONA 
 
 EVE 
 CLEOPATRA 
 
 86 
 
THE EXPLANATION 
 
 I DREAMED I cast a Pebble in a Pond 
 
 That stretched to the Horizon and Beyond, 
 
 Making a Ripple that my Fancy took 
 
 To be the Circulation of my Book. 
 
 And as the Circle wide and wider spread, 
 
 It passed the Limit of Things Limited, 
 
 Until the Ripple from my Pebble cast 
 
 Had waxed a Mighty Wave, that swelling fast 
 
 Broke presently, and Overflowed the Past; 
 
 And Then I dreamed came to me shoals on shoals 
 
 Of Complimentary Letters from Great Souls, 
 
 Praising my Book. — Of These a Choice Selection, 
 
 Reader, I now present for your Inspection. 
 
 87 
 
THE WANDERING JEW 
 
 No Living Soul can testify 
 With such authority as I 
 Upon the Weariness and Ache 
 Of Walking just for Walking's sake; 
 But ever since I undertook 
 To be the Agent of your Book, 
 And travelled for the sake of Trade, 
 I 've felt like quite a different Shade. 
 Indeed, I have at last begun 
 To wish my journey never done; 
 88 
 
Both for your good Book's sake and miue ; 
 Love and Percent. I thus combine — 
 And that reminds me — 
 
 I enclose 
 My statement for the month, which shows 
 The net subscriptions up to date 
 (With Discount at the usual rate). 
 Among subscribers you '11 perceive 
 The names of Cleopatra, Eve, 
 Lady Godiva, Horace, Jonah, 
 Lady Macbeth and Desdemona. 
 They all send testimonials too. 
 More later — until then, adieu. 
 
 p.s. 
 
 I have (I trust with your consent) 
 Deducted sixty-five per cent. 
 
 89 
 
HORACE 
 
 "Herb's to you!" as you moderns say when 
 
 drinking, 
 And 't is a vast improvement, to my thinking, 
 On spilling precious liquor on the sod, 
 For fear of angering some thirsty god. 
 Here 's to your Book — It cannot fail to bring 
 Pleasure to such as like that kind of thing; 
 90 
 
Fairies and Flowers, Curlycues and quirls. 
 
 For my part, though (don't think me Pig mid 
 
 Pearls), 
 To tell the truth, I rather miss the girls. 
 De gustibus . . . / 
 
 Leastways the Cover 's showy, 
 I think I '11 pass my copy on to Chloe. 
 
 91 
 
JONAH 
 
 EN ROUTE 
 
 It is the Third Day Out — or (if you pin 
 Me strictly to the Truth) the Third Day In. 
 All day the Sea tempestuous has wrought, 
 And yet I don't feel lonesome as T ought, 
 When I consider that I am the one 
 And only passenger aboard, with none 
 To tell me Stories older than the Sun, 
 92 
 
Or make me wagers on the Daily Run, 
 Or, if exclusively inclined, to shun. 
 It happened thiswise : once I took a ship 
 For Tarshish, and, to read upon the Trip, 
 Had brought your Little Book of Garden Lore, 
 Upon the which I set exceeding store. 
 Now as I read, lost in a happy dream. 
 There waxed a sea that smote upon our beam 
 With such a smite that every one was floored ; 
 My precious Little Book went Overboard, 
 And I leaped after, of my own accord. 
 
 I saved mj^ Book, and rose in time to hail 
 
 This very opportunely passing Whale, 
 
 Within whose dim Cetacean Saloon 
 
 I find my solitude a Precious Boon ; 
 
 For as I read your " Garden " o'er and o'er, 
 
 I care not if I never reach the Shore. 
 
 93 
 
LADY MACBETH 
 
 Since 't is by every one agreed, 
 To say that He who runs may read ; 
 Then she who walks, though with less haste, 
 The joys of Literature may taste. 
 So I who pace this spectral floor, 
 Doing my perpetual encore 
 Of Life's Performance o'er and o'er, 
 In moments spare, however brief, 
 Turn to your " Garden " for relief 
 94 
 
From gore and ghosts with fearful eyes,- 
 
 To Cupids, Bees, and Butterflies, 
 
 And Roses, who revive in me 
 
 The Hope that some day I may be 
 
 By their exotic exorcism, 
 
 Quite cured of my somnambulism. 
 
 95 
 
GODIVA 
 
 "I WAITED for the Tram at Coventry," 
 
 The Train was several hundred years too late 
 
 (It had not been invented yet, you see) ; 
 
 Such is the Cold Cast Irony of Fate. 
 
 At last the Train arrived, and with it too 
 
 Your Book — a Precious Package marked "collect. " 
 
 Eaptured I read it through and through, and 
 
 through, 
 And then I paused in sadness to reflect — 
 96 
 
How that same Book had been a priceless boon, 
 But for a little accident of Date; 
 If only I had not been born so soon, 
 Or if you had not gone to press so late. 
 Book, if only you had come to me 
 Ere I rode forth upon that morning sad ! 
 In naught but Faith and Hope and Charity, 
 And other Vague Abstractions thinly clad ; 
 In whole Editions I would have invested 
 (I hope you get good Royalties therefrom). 
 To keep the naughty townfolk interested, 
 And most Particularly, Peeping Tom. 
 
 97 
 
DESDEMONA 
 
 Deak Mr. Author, I make bold 
 To send you greeting, as an old 
 Admirer from beyond the Styx. 
 I love your book ! (I ordered Six /) 
 Will you believe me when I write 
 Your verses saved my life this night ? 
 'T was thus (but first I ought to say, 
 In Hades we enact each day 
 98 
 
Life's Tragedy, as in a Play 
 
 That has no ending) : well, to-day, 
 
 When we came to the final act, 
 
 I introduced with cunning tact 
 
 Some extracts from your charming Book. 
 
 I wish you 'd seen Othello's look 
 
 Grow soft — and when he came to do 
 
 The Deed — lo, he forgot his Cue, 
 
 Ending the scene, oh, bliss of blisses, 
 
 By smothering me instead with kisses ! 
 
 99 
 
EVE 
 
 DEA.K ! I cannot choose but write 
 To tell you of the Pure Delight 
 Your Little Book has given me. 
 While reading it I seem to he 
 Transported in your Fancy's train, 
 To my own Garden once again. 
 Ah me ! whenever I recall 
 That Eatal Morning of the Fall, 
 100 
 
Of One Thing quite convinced I am ; 
 Had I that day, as Old Khayyam, 
 A Book of Verses 'neath the Bough, 
 I 'd be in Paradise e'en now. 
 With your Sweet Book to entertain. 
 The Serpent might have talked in vain ; 
 For is not Curiosity 
 The naughty Daughter of Ennui? 
 
 Yet, but for my bite into the Unknown, 
 Meseems your "Garden " never could have grown. 
 
 101 
 
CLEOPATRA 
 
 How sharper than a Serpent's tooth 
 It is to have a Thankless child. 
 
 Who wrote those lines, I wonder; was it you? 
 For if it was, you know a Thing or Two 
 Ahout a Serpent. No, I must decline 
 Discussing children, they 're not in my line; 
 102 
 
As for the Serpent, I '11 vouch for the truth 
 Of all you say about a Serpent's Tooth. 
 I 've felt his Fang, I know its deadly smart; 
 Also I know your Little Book by Heart; 
 And so I pray this offspring of your Brain 
 May be a Thankful Child, and bring much gain. 
 
 103 
 
Some take their gold 
 
 In minted mold, 
 And some in Harps hereafter ; 
 
 Sut give me mine 
 
 In Tresses fine, 
 And keep the change in Laughter. 
 
 104