A LITTLE BROTHER OF THE RICH AND OTHER VERSES A LITTLE BROTHER OF THE RICH AND OTHER VERSES BY EDWARD SANDFORD MARTIN NEW-YORK CHARLES SCRIBNER S SONS 1890 Copyright, 1890, by CHARLES SCRIBNER S SONS. THE DE VINNE PRESS. Inscribed TO THE EDITOR OF THE SUN" WITH THE SOMEWHAT DISQUIETING CONSCIOUSNESS THAT HE KNOWS POETRY WHEN HE SEES IT 327137 CONTENTS. A LITTLE BROTHER OF THE RICH i PROCUL NEGOTIIS 3 FUIT ILIUM 4 EPITHALAMIUM 6 MEA CULPA 10 AGAIN 14 SNOW-BOUND 16 To MABEL 18 IN THE ELYSIAN FIELDS . 21 A SECOND THOUGHT 23 A PRACTICAL QUESTION . . . . . . . .25 ET Tu, BERGHE! 26 INSOMNIA 27 CIVIL SERVICE 28 ALL OR NOTHING 31 vii CONTENTS. A PHILADELPHIA CLAVERHOUSE 33 THROWING STONES < 35 TOUCHING BOTTOM 39 HONI SOIT Qui MAL Y PENSE 4 1 LOCHINVAR EX-COLORADO 44 A MORTIFYING SUBJECT 47 MIXED . . . . 49 AND WAS HE RIGHT? 5 BALLADE OF THE GENERAL TERM 5 1 INFIRM 53 CRUMBS AND COMFORT 54 ASHORE 55 BARTER 5 8 BEGGARS HORSES 6o TO-DAY 62 OF MISTRESS MARTHA: HER EYES 63 THE BEST GIFT OF ALL 65 AUTUMN ..., ^7 REMORSE 6 9 HUMPTY DUMPTY 7 RETIREMENT 7 1 SELF-SACRIFICE 73 WHAT HE WANTS IN His 74 viii CONTENTS. BE KIND TO THYSELF . 75 LOST LIGHT 76 DATED "FEBRUARY THE 14 " 78 LOOKING ON 80 REVULSION , . . 81 FOLGER ...... 83 GRANT 84 AD SODALES 85 A LITTLE BROTHER OF THE RICH TO put new shingles on old roofs ; To give old women wadded skirts ; To treat premonitory coughs With seasonable flannel shirts ; To soothe the stings of poverty And keep the jackal from the door These are the works that occupy The Little Sister of the Poor. She carries, everywhere she goes, Kind words and chickens, jams and coals ; Poultices for corporeal woes, And sympathy for downcast souls ; Her currant jelly her quinine, The lips of fever move to bless. She makes the humble sick-room shine With unaccustomed tidiness. :B ROWER OF THE RICH. A heart of hers the instant twin And vivid counterpart is mine ; I also serve my fellow-men, Though in a somewhat different line. The Poor, and their concerns, she has Monopolized, because of which It falls to me to labor as A Little Brother of the Rich. For their sake at no sacrifice Does my devoted spirit quail ; I give their horses exercise ; As ballast on their yachts I sail. Upon their Tally Ho s I ride And brave the chances of a storm ; I even use my own inside To keep their wines and victuals warm. Those whom we strive to benefit Dear to our hearts soon grow to be ; I love my Rich, and I admit That they are very good to me. Succor the Poor, my sisters, I, While heaven shall still vouchsafe me health, Will strive to share and mollify The trials of abounding wealth. PROCUL NEGOTIIS. I THINK that if I had a farm, I d be a man of sense ; And if the day was bright and warm I d sit upon the fence, And calmly smoke a pensive pipe And think about my pigs ; And wonder if the corn was ripe ; And counsel rhomme qui digs. And if the day was wet and cold, I think I should admire To sit, and dawdle over old Montaigne, before the fire ; And pity boobies who could lie And squabble just for pelf; And thank my blessed stars that I Was nicely fixed myself. FUIT ILIUM. WERE you nurtured in the purple ? Were you reared a pampered pet? Did a menial throng encircle You in waiting while you ate ? When a baby had you lockets, Silver cups, and forks, and spoons ? Were there coins in the pockets Of your childhood s pantaloons ? Did hereditary shekels Make your sweethearts deem you fair Reconcile them to your freckles And your carrot-colored hair ? In electrifying raiment Were you every day attired ? Was the promptness of your payment Universally admired ? FUIT ILIUM. Did your father, too confiding, Sign the paper of his friends ? Did his rail way- stock, subsiding, Cease to pay him dividends ? Are his buildings slow in renting ? Did his banker pilfer, slope, And absconding leave lamenting Creditors to live on hope ? Ere you dissipate a quarter Do you scrutinize it twice ? Have you ceased to look on water- Drinking as a nauseous vice ? Do you wear your brother s breeches, Though the buttons scarcely meet ? Does the vanity of riches Form no part of your conceit ? I am with you, fellow-pauper ! Let us share our scanty crust Burst the bonds of fiscal torpor Go where beer is sold on trust ! Let us, freed from res angustce, Seek some fair Utopian mead Where the throat is never dusty, And tobacco grows, a weed. 5 EPITHALAMIUM. THE marriage bells have rung their peal, The wedding inarch has told its story. I Ve seen her at the altar kneel In all her stainless, virgin/glory ; She s bound to honor, love, obey, Come joy or sorrow, tears or laughter. I watched her as she rode away, And flung the lucky slipper after. She was my first, my very first, My earliest inamorata, And to the passion that I nursed For her I well-nigh was a martyr. For I was young and she was fair, And always bright and gay and chipper, And, oh, she wore such sunlit hair ! Such silken stockings ! such a slipper ! 6 EPITHALAM1UM. She did not wish to make me mourn She was the kindest of God s creatures ; But flirting was in her inborn, Like brains and queerness in the Beechers. I do not fear your heartless flirt, Obtuse her dart and dull her probe is ; But when girls do not mean to hurt, But do Orate tune pro nobis ! A most romantic country place ; The moon at full, the month of August ; An inland lake across whose face Played gentle zephyrs, ne er a raw gust. Books, boats and horses to enjoy, The which was all our occupation ; A damsel and a callow boy There ! now you have the situation. We rode together miles and miles, My pupil she, and I her Chiron ; At home I revelled in her smiles And read her extracts out of Byron. We roamed by moonlight, chose our stars (I thought it most authentic billing), Explored the woods, climbed over bars, Smoked cigarettes and broke a shilling. EPITHALAMIUM. An infinitely blissful week Went by in this Arcadian fashion ; I hesitated long to speak, But ultimately breathed my passion. She said her heart was not her own ; She said she d love me like a sister ; She cried a little (not alone), I begged her not to fret, and kissed her. I lost some sleep, some pounds in weight, A deal of time and all my spirits, And much, how much I dare not state I mused upon that damsel s merits. I tortured my unhappy soul, I wished I never might recover ; I hoped her marriage bells might toll A requiem for her faithful lover. And now she s married, now she wears A wedding ring upon her finger; And I although it odd appears Still in the flesh I seem to linger. Lo, there my swallow-tail, and here Lies by my side a wedding favor ; Beside it stands a mug of beer, I taste it how divine its flavor ! EPITHALAMWM. I saw her in her bridal dress Stand pure and lovely at the altar ; I heard her firm response that " Yes," Without a quiver or a falter. And here I sit and drink to her Long life and happiness, God bless her ! Now fill again. No heel taps, sir ; Here s to Success to her successor ! MEA CULPA. THERE is a thing which in my brain, Though nightly I revolve it, I cannot in the least explain, Nor do I hope to solve it. While others tread the narrow path In manner meek and pious, Why is it that my spirit hath So opposite a bias? Brought up to fear the Lord, and dread The bottomless abysm, In Watts s hymns profoundly read And drilled in catechism, I should have been a model youth, The pink of all that s proper. I was not, but to tell the truth I never cared a copper. 10 MEA CULPA. I had no yearnings when a boy To sport an angel s wrapper, Nor heard I with tumultuous joy The church-frequenting clapper. My actions always harmonized With my own sweet volition. I always did what I devised, But rarely asked permission. When o er the holy book I d pore And read of doings pristine, I had a fellow-feeling for The put-upon Philistine. King David gratified my taste He harped and danced boleros ; But first the Prodigal was placed Upon my list of heroes. I went to school. To study ? No ! I dearly loved to dally And dawdle over Ivanhoe, Tom Brown and Charles O Malley In recitation I was used To halt on every sentence ; Repenting, seldom I produced Fruits proper to repentance. MEA CULPA. At college, later, I became Familiar with my Flaccus, Brought incense to the Muses flame, And sacrificed to Bacchus. I flourished in an air unfraught With sanctity s aroma ; Learned many things I was not taught, And captured a diploma. I am not well provided for, I have no great possessions, I do not like the legal or Medicinal professions, Were 1 of good repute I might Take orders as a deacon ; But I m no bright and shining light, But just a warning beacon. Though often urged by friends sincere To woo some funded houri, I cannot read my title clear To any damsel s dowry. And could to wedlock I induce An heiress, I should falter, For fear that such a bridal noose Might prove a gilded halter. MEA CULPA. My tradesmen have suspicious grown, My friends are tired of giving ; Upon the cold, cold world I m thrown To hammer out my living. I fear that work before me lies Indeed, I see no option, Unless, perhaps, I advertise " An orphan for adoption ! " A legacy of misspent time Is all that I m the heir to ; I cannot make my life sublime However much I care to. And if as now I turn my head In retrospect a minute, T is but to recognize my bed, Before I lie down in it. I am the man that I have been, And at the final summing, How shall I bear to see sent in My score, one long shortcoming ! Unless when all the saints exclaim With righteous wrath, " Peccavit!" Some mighty friend shall make his claim " He suffered, and amavit ! " 13 AGAIN. 1 WONDER why my brow is burning; Why sleep, to close my eyes forgets ; I wonder why I have a yearning To smoke incessant cigarettes. I wonder why my thoughts will wander, And all restraint of mine defy, And why excuse the rhyme a gander Is not more of a goose than I. I have an indistinct impression I had these symptoms once before, And dull discomfort held possession Of this same spot that now is sore. That some time in a past that ranges From early whiskers up to bibs, My heart was ringing just such changes As now against these selfsame ribs. AGAIN. I wish some philanthropic Jenner Might vaccinate against these ills, And help us keep our noiseless tenor Of life submissive to our wills; And ere our hearts are permeated By sentiments too warm by half, That we might be inoculated With milder passion from a calf. SNOW-BOUND. A law office ; two briefless ones ; a clock strikes. JAMES. ONE, two, three, four; it s four o clock. There comes the postman round the block, And in a jiff we 11 hear his knock Most pleasant. Inform me, Thomas, will he bring To you deserving no such thing Letters from her whose praises ring Incessant ? THOMAS. Friend of my bosom, James, refrain From putting questions fraught with pain, And seeking facts I had not fain Imparted. The said official on this stretch, Will not, in my opinion, fetch, Such documents to me, a wretch Down-hearted. 16 SNOW-BOUND. JAMES. Nay ; but I prithee, Thomas, tell To me, thy friend, who loves thee well, What cause there is for such a fell Deprival. Why is it that the message fails ? Have broken ties, or twisted rails, Or storm, or snow delayed the mail s Arrival ? THOMAS. Thou art," oh, James ! a friend indeed, To probe my wound and make it bleed; To know of my affairs thy greed Hath no bound. The reason why, thou hast not guessed, If storm there were, t was in her breast, For there my letter, unexpressed, Lies snow-bound. TO MABEL. UPON this anniversary My little godchild, aged three, My compliments I make to thee, Quite heedless. And that you 11 throw them now away, But treasure them some future day, Are platitudes, the which to say Is needless. You small, stout damsel, muckle mou d, With cropped tow-head and manners rude, And stormy spirit unsubdued By nurses. Where you were raised was it in vogue To lisp that Tipperary brogue ? Oh, you re a subject sweet, you rogue, For verses ! 18 TO MABEL. Last Sunday morning when we stayed At home you got yourself arrayed In Lyman s clothes and turned from maid To urchin. And when we all laughed at you so, You eyed outside the falling snow, And thought your rig quite fit to go To church in. Play on, play on, dear little lass ! Play on till sixteen summers pass, And then I 11 bring a looking-glass. And there be- Fore you on your lips I 11 show The curves of small Dan Cupid s bow, And then the crop that now is " tow " Shall "fair" be. And then I 11 show you, too, the charms Of small firm hands and rounded arms, And eyes whose flashes send alarms Right through you ; And then a half-regretful sigh May break from me to think that I, At forty years, can never try, To woo you. 9 TO MABEL. What shall I wish you ? Free from ruth, To live and learn in love and truth, Through childhood s day and days of youth, And school s day. For all the days that intervene Twixt Mab at three and at nineteen, Are but one sombre or serene All Fools Day. IN THE ELYSIAN FIELDS. WHAT ? You here ! Why, old man, I never Felt more surprise or more delight ; Who would have dreamt that you would ever Parade around in robes of white? I always thought of you as dodging The coals and firebrands somewhere else ; And here you are, with board and lodging, Where not so much as butter melts. Well, well, old man, if you can stand it Up here, I 11 never make a fuss; I had forebodings that they d planned it A little stiff for men like us. The boys were much cut up about you, You got away so very quick ; And, as for me, to do without you Just absolutely made me sick. IN THE ELYS1AN FIELDS. I wish you could have seen us plant you ; Why, every man squeezed out a tear, And just imagine us, now, can t you? The gang, and yours the only bier ! Fred hammered out some bully verses ; We had them printed in the sheet, With lines funereal as hearses Around them did n t it look sweet ! Halloo ! is that Sir Walter Raleigh ? I wish you d point the people out ; I want to look at Tom Macaulay ; Is Makepeace anywhere about ? Where s Socrates ? Where s Sydney Carton ? Oh, I forgot he was a myth ; If there s a thing I Ve set my heart on It is to play with Sydney Smith. What ? Glad I came ? I am for certain ; The other s a malarious hole. I always pined to draw the curtain, And somehow knew I had a soul. The flesh oh, was n t it a fetter ! You d get so tired of all your schemes ; But here, I think, I 11 like it better. Oh dear, how natural it seems ! A SECOND THOUGHT. THIS world s the worst I ever saw; I d like to make it better ; I m going to promulgate the law, And hold men to its letter. Be respectable and stand Esteemed of Mrs. Grundy ; Attend to business week-days and Read moral books on Sunday. On Sabbath keepers, every one, Approvingly I smile, and Frown on those who spend their Sun- Days down at Coney Island. Don t play cards, young man ; gobang Affords amusement ample. Speak carefully, eschewing slang, And set a good example. 23 A SECOND THOUGHT. The theaters, how bad they be ! The players, oh, how vicious ! The waltz I shudder when I see, And think it most pernicious. Shun the wine cup ; don t be led To drink by scoff or banter ; In the cup lurk pains of head, And snakes in the decanter. Ah, me ! I wonder if I m right ! I say, "It s wrong to do so ! " As though, without a soul in sight, I ruled alone, like Crusoe. Is it that I am partly wrong, And partly right, my neighbor, And that we get, who toil so long, Half truths for all our labor ? A PRACTICAL QUESTION DARKLY the humorist Muses on fate ; Ghastly experiment Life seems to him, Subject for merriment Somber and grim ; Is it his doom or is t Something he ate ? ET TU, BERGHE! A^D art thou, Bergh, so firmly set Against domestic strife, As to correct with stripes the man Who disciplines his wife ? Such action doth not of thy creed Appear the normal fruit ; Thou shouldst befriend a being who Behaves so like a brute ! INSOMNIA, COME, vagrant sleep, and close the lid Upon the casket of my thought; Come, truant, come when thou art bid, And let thyself be caught. For lonely is the night, and still ; And save my own no breath I hear, No other mind, no other will, Nor heart nor hand is near. Thy waywardness what prayer can move 1 Canst thou by any lure be brought ? Or art thou then like woman s love That only comes unsought ? Up ! Where s my dressing gown ? My pipe is here. Slumber be hanged ! Now for a book and beer. CIVIL SERVICE. ON Pennsylvania avenue He stood and waited for a car; He turned to catch a parting view Of where the Public Buildings are : He looked at them with thoughtful eye ; He took his hat from off his head ; He heaved a half-regretful sigh, And thus he said : " My relative, I do the bidding Of Fate, and say to thee good-bye. I think thee fortunate at ridding Thyself of such a clerk as I. Thy sure support, though somewhat meagre, Hath much about it to commend ; Nor am I now so passing eager To leave so provident a friend. 28 CIVIL SERYICE. " Light was thy yoke could I have borne it With tranquil mind and step sedate ; Why did my feeble shoulders scorn it And seem to crave a heavier weight ? Extremely blest is his condition Whose needs thy bounteous hands supply, If he but fling away ambition And let the world go rushing by. " Indocilis pauperiem pati, I must get out of this damp spot. Away ! away ! Whatever fate I May have in store, I fear it not. Away from all my soul despises, From paltry aims, from sordid cares ; Fame, honor, love, time s richest prizes, Lie waiting for the man who dares. " The man who calls no man his master, Nor bows his head to tinsel gods ; Who faces debt, disease, disaster, And never murmurs at the odds ; Although his life from its beginning Marks only fall succeeding fall, Let him fight on and trust to winning In death the richest prize of all." CIVIL SERVICE. He jammed his hat down on his head ; He turned from where the Buildings are ; Precipitately thence he fled, And caught a passing car. ALL OR NOTHING. HAPPY the man whose far remove From business and the giddy throng Fits him in the paternal groove Unquestioning to glide along. Apart from struggle and from strife, Content to live by labor s fruits, And wander down the vale of life In gingham shirt and cowhide boots. He too is blessed who, from within, By strong and lasting impulse stirred, Faces the turmoil and the din Of rushing life ; whom hope deferred But more incites ; who ever strives, And wants, and works, and waits, until The multitude of other lives Pay glorious tribute to his will. 31 ALL OR NOTHING. But he who, greedy of renown, Is too tenacious of his ease, Alas for him ! Nor busy town Nor country with his mood agrees ; Eager to reap, but loath to sow, He longs monstrari digito, And looking on with envious eyes, Lives restless and obscurely dies. A PHILADELPHIA CLAVERHOUSE. TO the fathers in council t was Witherspoon spoke " Our best beloved dogmas we cannot revoke ; God s infinite mercy let others record, And teach men to trust in their crucified Lord ; The old superstitions let others dispel, I feel it my duty to go in for Hell ! " Perdition is needful; beyond any doubt Hell fire is a thing that we can t do without. The bottomless pit is our very best claim ; To leave it unworked were a sin and a shame ; We must keep it up, if we like it or not, And make it eternal and make it red-hot. " To others the doctrine of love may be dear I own I confide in the doctrine of fear ; There s nothing, I think, so effective to make Our weak fellow mortals their errors forsake, 33 A PHILADELPHIA CLAYERHOUSE. As to tell them abruptly, with unchanging front, You 11 be damned if you do ! You Ml be damned if you don t ! Saltpetre and pitchforks, with brimstone and coals, Are arguments suited to rescue men s souls. A new generation forthwith must arise With Beelzebub pictured before their young eyes ; They 11 be brave, they 11 be true, they 11 be gentle and kind, Because they 11 have Satan forever in mind." 34 THROWING STONES. " T LOVE my child," the actress wrote; 1 " My duty is to guide The child I bore ; and in my arms The child I love shall hide Shall hide from missiles cast at me, Because I have so odd A conscience that I choose to rear The child I took from God." There is a sin from which us all May gracious Heaven guard, That is its own worst punishment, Itself its sole reward. And of it social law has said To man : " If sin you must, Go, then, and come again, but leave The woman in the dust ! " 35 THROWING STONES. Ah ! who can know, save Him Allwise Who watches from above, The awful hazard women dare To run for men they love ; Or tell how many a craven heart, To shield his own bad name, Has caused a woman s trustful love To bring her lasting shame ? To her who, when the dream has passed, Finds herself left alone, And in her crushed, repentant heart, A yearning to atone, Heaven, more pitiful than man Who erst upon her smiled, By love to win her to itself May send a little child. Then, if the lonely mother s heart Accepts the gracious gift ; And if the charge she dared to take She does not dare to shift ; Shall we, untempted and untried, To ease and virtue born, Visit upon her shrinking head Our unrelenting scorn ? 36 THROWING STONES. We, who have all our lives been taught Truths other men have learned, And walked by what celestial light In other bosoms burned; We, whose sublimest duty is To do as we are bid ; How shall we judge a soul from which The face of God is hid ? Know you the loneliness of heart That courts release from death ? That makes it burdensome to draw Each slow, successive breath ? That longs for human sympathy, Until, when hope is lost, A respite from its agony It buys at any cost? Of erring human nature, we Are born, each with his share ; We all are vain ; we all are weak, And quick to fly from care. And if we keep our footing, Or seem to rise at all, T were well for us with charity To look on those who fall. 37 THROWING STONES. And if our hands are strengthened, And if our lips can speak, T were well if with them we might help Our brothers who are weak; And well if we remember God s love is never grudged, And never sit in judgment, If we would not be judged. TOUCHING BOTTOM. I THINK that I have somewhere read About a man whose foolish head, By mischievous intention led, A sprite Had with an ass s visage decked, That all who met him might detect His intellectual defect At sight. The trite remark of man and book That many men are men in look, But donkeys really, thus the spook Reversed ; The victim of the imp s design Had such a head as yours or mine, Although his did seem asinine At first. 39 TOUCHING BOTTOM. But Love I think the story ran Was proof against the fairy s plan, Discerning through the mask the man, Perhaps ; Or, is it true that women try, But very faintly, to descry Long ears on heads that occupy Their laps ! I know a youth whose fancy gropes For headgear finer than the Pope s, So him his bright and treacherous hopes Delude ; But, in the mirror of his fears, When this too sanguine person peers, Alas ! behold the jackass ears Protrude ! Titania, mine, if I could find You always to my follies blind, So great content would rule my mind Within, That even though myself aware Of pointed ears adorned with hair, I do not think that I would care A pin. 40 HONI S01T (LUI MAL Y PENSE, IT was my happy lot to meet Upon a late occasion, While seeking of the summer s heat Agreeable evasion, By visiting at a resort Of fashion where, no matter A maid whom there was none to court, And very few to flatter. Her head had not the graceful poise Of Aphrodite s statue ; Her hair reminded you of boys ; Her nose was pointed at you. A Derby hat, the self-same sort The fashionable male owes Money for, she used to sport As angels do their halos. 41 HONl SOIT QUI MAL Y PENSE. She seldom walked in silk attire, But commonly in flannel : Not yet in oils did she aspire To figure on a panel ; Because she could not help but see She was not tall nor slender ; Nor did she deem her curves to be Superlatively tender. Some prudish dames did her abuse With censure fierce and scathing ; Because she, happening to lose Her stocking while in bathing, Deemed such a loss of little note, And simply tied the plagued Stocking round her little throat And reappeared barelegged. I do not think that for the pelf Of eligible boobies, Or for the chance to deck herself With diamonds and rubies, Or for her standing in the books Of prim and proper ladies, Or for their disapproving looks, She cared a hoot from Hades. 42 HONI SOIT QUI MAL Y PENSE. Though competent to hold her tongue, When circumstance demanded Speech, she was, for one so young, Astonishingly candid. She sang the vulgarest of songs, Which sung by her were funny, And never brooded o er her wrongs Nor hoarded up her money. T is true this careless damsel s fame At last grew somewhat shady ; But if the man disposed to name Her fast, or not a lady, Will in the present writer s way Considerately toddle, This writer thinks that person may Get punched upon his noddle. LOCH1NVAR EX-COLORADO. OH, the cow-puncher Budge has come in from the West ; In all Colorado his ranch is the best ; And, barring a toothbrush, he baggage had none, For he came in some haste, and he came not for fun ; Nor vigils nor gold to his quest doth he grudge On an errand of love comes the cow-puncher Budge. A telegram reached him ; he called for a horse. He rode ninety miles as a matter of course ; The last twenty-seven he galloped, and then Just caught the Atlantic Express at Cheyenne. He stayed not to eat nor to drink, for he knew He could pick up a meal on the C. B. & Q. He got to Chicago the second day out, But right through Chicago he kept on his route, Nor stayed to buy linen, not even a shirt ; He liked flannel best and he did n t mind dirt. LOCHINVAR EX-COLORADO. With trousers tucked into his boots, said he " Fudge ! Small odds if I get there," said bold Robert Budge. From Worth, the Parisian of awful repute, Had come divers gowns to Angelica Bute, And parcels from Tiffany daily were stowed Away in strong rooms of her father s abode ; But she languished, nor heeded she hint, cough or nudge ; She was bound to Fitz James, but she cottoned to Budge. But hark ! T is the door-bell ! a symptom of joy Lights her eye " Ah ! at last ! " T is a telegraph boy ; The maid brings a message ; she takes it, half dead With mingled excitement, hope, eagerness dread: Mayor s house on Thursday, at nine ; let me judge What next ! only meet me there. Faithfully, Budge." On Thursday at nine, to the house of the Mayor Two persons came singly, but left it a pair, A man and a bride in a travelling dress, Went Westward at ten on the lightning express. A wedding at Grace Church, which should have occurred At twelve, was, for reasons not given, deferred. 45 LOCH1NYAR EX-COLORADO. The dowagers called it the greatest of shames. The men said, " It s rough on that fellow Fitz James " ; The damsels declared it was awfully nice, And vowed they could do it and never think twice. It s a chore to get housemaids ; you may have to drudge At the start ; but I love you," said cow-puncher Budge. A MORTIFYING SUBJECT. WHAT is to be, I do not know : What is I do esteem To be so undesirable And worthless, that I deem There must be something good in store, Something to keep in view, To compensate us living here, For living as we do. For life oh life, it seems a chore ! Its surface is so blurred By cares and passions that it makes One long to be interred ; To occupy a tranquil spot Some seven feet by two, And just serenely lie and rot, With nothing else to do. 47 A MORTIFYING SUBJECT. I think that when there ceased to be Sufficient tenement To hold my conscience, then I would Begin to be content. And if I should be there to see My stomach take its leave, I d gather up my mouldering shroud And chuckle in my sleeve. I think that when the greedy worm Began upon my brains, I d wish him luck, and hope he d get His dinner for his pains. I d warn him that they would be apt With him to disagree, For if they fed him well t were what They seldom did for me. But when I should be certain that My scarred and battered heart Was of my corporality Not any more a part, Though I d no voice, I d rattle in My throat, with joyous tones ; And with no feelings left, I would Feel happy in my bones. 4 8 MIXED. WITHIN my earthly temple there s a crowd. There one of us that s humble ; one that s proud. There s one that s broken-hearted for his sins, And one who, unrepentant, sits and grins. There s one who loves his neighbor as himself, And one who cares for naught but fame and pelf. From much corroding care would I be free If once I could determine which is me. 49 AND WAS HE RIGHT? " T M going to marry not you," she said, 1 " But a better fellow in your stead. You re not so bad not bad at all ; I d like to keep you within my call, But not to take you for good and all. I m going to live on yonder street ; Do you live near me," she said ; "so sweet As I 11 be to you whenever we meet ! And in my house there 11 be a seat Where you can sit and warm your feet, And your contentment shall be complete Come ! Is n t it a divine conceit? " She said. Softly his breast a sigh set free : He said, " Dear Heart, it may not be. Not for the perfume of the rose Would I live near to where it grows. If not for me the bud has blown, I d rather leave the flower alone. Who by the bush sits down forlorn Is only fit to feel the thorn," He said, so BALLADE OF THE GENERAL TERM EACH in his high official chair; One who presides ; two plain J. J. Decent of mien and white of hair They sit there judging all the day. The gravity of what they say Bent brows and sober tones confirm ; Brown, Jones and Robinson are they, Justices of the General Term. I see the learned counsel there Rise up and argue, move and pray ; Attorneys with respectful air Their perspicacity display. Serenely joyous if they may Of justice keep alive the germ ; Motion and argument they weigh Those justices of General Term. 51 BALLADE OF THE GENERAL TERM. That court I haunt, not that I care For justice in a general way; Nor yet because I hope to share With anyone a client s pay. The reason why I there delay And on the court s hard benches squirm Is that of Love I am the prey Her father s of the General Term. ENVOY. I look at him with dire dismay Scorched by his eye I seem a worm. " Dismissed with costs," is what he 11 say That Justice of the General Term. INFIRM. 1WILL not go," he said, " for well I know her eyes insidious spell, And how unspeakably he feels Who takes no pleasure in his meals. I know a one-idea d man Should undergo the social ban, And if she once my purpose melts I know I 11 think of nothing else., < I care not though her teeth are pearls The town is full of nicer girls ! I care not though her lips are red It does not do to lose one s head ! I 11 give her leisure to discover, For once, how little I think of her ; And then, how will she feel ? " cried he And took his hat and went to see. 53 CRUMBS AND COMFORT. C,T no man, irked by tedious fate, The worth of victuals underrate ; But thankful be if so he may Environ three square meals a day ; For, barring drink, there s naught so good, Up to its limit s edge, as food. Up to its limit ? Yes, but will Food satisfy as well as fill ? Hear humankind responsive groan " Man cannot live by bread alone ! " Oh, tell me, Sibyl, tell me whether A man might live on bread together ! 54 ASHORE. Man s happiness depends upon the views He takes of circumstances that he s in. To some it is a greater joy to lose Than it, to others, ever is to win. SINCE our poor hopes, like vessels tempest tossed, Are duly wrecked, and all illusion ceases ; Now that the game is up, let s count the cost, And estimate the value of the pieces. And first, our heart : It was a flimsy thing Already when we dared this last adventure ; And if it s flimsy still why that should bring No added liability to censure. A serviceable organ is it still, That does our turn in absence of a better ; And very shortly, we believe, it will As calmly thump as though we d never met her. 55 ASHORE. If tissues are so delicately spun As not to stand a reasonable racket, Their anxious owner has as little fun As Master Thomas in his Sunday jacket. Give tender hearts to those who like that kind, And gain in strength with every pang they suffer We praise that sort, but with relief we find That ours is tough and yearly growing tougher. Our head remains the same indifferent pate, Guiltless alike of learning and of laurels. We notice, though, with thankfulness, of late A measure of improvement in our morals. Our purse was always lean, so it amounts To little that it yet remains depleted ; Though florists and confectioners accounts Are in, and payment of the same entreated. We ve lost a heap of time, but being rid Of time, one always gets along without it. Could we have spent it better than we did ! Another might ; but, for ourself, we doubt it. 56 ASHORE. And we have learned nothing. We knew before The folly and the vanity of wooing : And if we chose to try it still once more, T was not to win, but simply to be doing. It was not that we hoped to gain a heart ; That that were vain required no further proving. It only meant that souls that live apart Yield sometimes to the human need of loving. Is this the last ? While yet his garments drip The stranded mariner forgets his pain, And rescuing the remnants of his ship, Already plans to make them float again. 57 BARTER. YES, there s a hole ; you need n t be At pains to point it out to me : I know it. I do not claim the piece is whole, Or that its yard of width is full : I merely show it. Fast color ? Do I really think That being soaked it will not shrink When dried ? Now that I ve got it off the shelf, You d better test the dyes yourself, And so decide. Cotton ? I dare surmise it s full Of threads that one might wish were wool, If wishing did it. Look sharp ; but if through being blind Some flaw or fault you fail to find, Don t say I hid it. 58 BARTER. The price is high ? You think it so ? Well, this is not, I d have you know, A bankrupt sale. These wares of mine if you despise, Some other dealer s merchandise May find more favor in your eyes ; To hold mine over for a rise I shall not fail. BEGGARS HORSES. 1WISH that altitude of tone, The waistband s due expansion, The faculty to hold one s own In this and t other mansion ; And shirts and shoes and moral force, Topcoats and overgaiters, Were things that always came of course To philosophic waiters. I wish that not by twos and threes, In squads and plural numbers, Young women would destroy one s ease Of mind and rout one s slumbers ; But that if by a poor heart s squirms Their pleasures know accession, They d hold it for successive terms In several possession. 60 BEGGARS 1 HORSES. I wish I had been changed at birth, And in my place maturing Some infant of surpassing worth, Industrious past curing, Had grown up subject to my share In Father Adam s blunder, And left me free to pile up care For him to stagger under. I wish that some things could be had Without foregoing others ; That all the joys that are not bad Were not weighed down with bothers. We can but wonder as we test The scheme of compensations, Is happiness with drawbacks best, Or grief with consolations. fit TO-DAY. SEE that what burdens Heaven may lay Upon your shrinking neck to-day, To-day you bear ; Nor seek to shun their weary weight, Nor, bowed with dread, anticipate To-morrow s care. Not with too great a load shall Fate, That knows the end, your shoulders freight Or heart oppress ; If but to-day s appointed work You grapple with, nor wish to shirk Its due distress. The coward heart that turns away From present tasks, with justice may Forebodings fill. Fools try to quaff to-morrow s wine ; As though to-morrow s sun could shine Unrisen still. 62 OF MISTRESS MARTHA: HER EYES, TRANSFIXED and spitted in my heart By Mistress Martha s eyes, their dart, Which has within me raised a great Commotion and uneasy state. Or are they black or are they blue I know not any more than you, Nor could I for a wager say If they be hazel, brown or gray. But when it comes to diagnosis Of what the outcome of their use is Full, comprehensive and exact Is my conception of the fact. 63 OF MISTRESS MARTHA: HER EYES. When first their witchery has begun You might be saved if you would run : But who would look for cause for fear In depths so limpid, calm and clear. Too soon, poor fool, you find you ve stayed Till it s too late to be afraid. Alas for him who thus misreckons For friendly lights mistaking beacons. Better it were if he had found Clarence, his fate, in Malmsey drowned, Than Mistress, in thine eyes to sink, Nor make a tear o erflow its brink. THE BEST GIFT OF ALL. ONE-AND-TWENTY, one-and-twenty, Youth and beauty, lovers plenty ; Health and riches, ease and leisure, Work to give a zest to pleasure ; What can a maid so lucky lack ? What can I wish that Fate holds back ? Youth will fade and beauty wanes ; Lovers, flouted, break their chains. Health may fail and wealth may fly you, Pleasures cease to satisfy you ; Almost everything that brings Happiness is born with wings. This I wish you this is best : Love that can endure the test ; Love surviving youth and beauty, Love that blends with homely duty, Love that s gentle, love that s true, Love that s constant wish I you. 65 THE BEST GIFT OF ALL. Still unsatisfied she lives Who for gold mere silver gives. One more joy I wish you yet, To give as much love as you get. Grant you, heaven, this to do, To love him best who best loves you. 66 AUTUMN. I HAVE sundry queer sensations When the year gets round to Autumn. What they are, and how I caught em Is obscure, but they are there Certain gay exhilarations Half-and-half, as Bass with Guinness, With a sad what-might-have-been-ness In the brisk September air. Back come hopes and young ambitions With the golden-rod and sumach, But impregnated with true Mach iavellian despair. Taking note of changed conditions ; Weighing powers with limitations I Facts with futile aspirations Born of bracing autumn air. 6 7 AUTUMN. Now I see myself grown famous, Bold of voice and free of gesture, Grave, superb, of stunning vesture Flood with eloquence the court. Soon ascends my Gaudeamus As I realize there are n t Any facts that seem to warrant Premonitions of that sort. Welcome each hallucination : Welcome, none the less, discerning Common sense in time returning To obliterate the spell. As a means of elevation As a sort of moral derrick This autumnal, atmospheric Spirit-hoister bears the bell. REMORSE. MY spirit sits in ashes, heaping dust upon its head ; I Ve said a silly thing, and now it cannot be unsaid. What boots it that to only two the wretched truth is known, If of the conscious pair who know it I myself am one ? I have my doubts more doubts the more I think of what I said If, really, half a loaf is so much better than no bread ; For if a person is an ass, and duly bound to show it, Cold comfort t is that he should have just sense enough to know it. HUMPTY DUMPTY. THEY say that folks who perch upon the brink Of canon deep or awful precipice A morbid impulse feel as back they shrink, To jump the edge off into the abyss ; And now and then some feather-head will dash Over the cliff to fundamental smash. So often with a man when he has won The passing favor of a maid demure, Not satisfied with having well begun, And over-eager to make all secure, Blind to his fate and heedless of his stops, With mad, spasmodic previousness, he pops. Poor, dizzy fool ; instead of winning more He only loses what he had before. RETIREMENT. NAY, do not ask why I who late First in the giddy throng disported, Now choose the solitary state And live alone unmissed, uncourted. Is it so strange that sometimes man His own poor company should cherish ? Must I go on as I began And dance, whoever pipes, or perish ? It may be that some stocks I had At lower figures now are quoted. It may be that my liver s bad ; It may be that my tongue is coated. It may be that malarial pains Are of the ills my flesh inherits That fever rages in my veins And chills disintegrate my spirits. 7* RETIREMENT. It may be that my friends are dead ; It may be that my foes are not ; Colds may have settled in my head, My coppers may be always hot. It may be that I feel above My peers, and think myself a swell ; It may be that I m crossed in love ; It may be that I will not tell. I own I find a mean relief, Confining to myself my dealings ; A cheap community of grief Between me and my battered feelings, I shun the haunts of happier men ; Their mirth my misery increases; My little bark is wrecked again And I am busy with the pieces. SELF-SACRIFICE. SHE said, " I admire and approve you, My intellect s voice is for you ; But when you entreat me to love you, I own I m at loss what to do. How I wish that on one or the other My heart and my head might agree ; I esteem you so much ! but Oh, bother ! My heart s choice is Barney McGee." Which the reason is why dissipation Has ravaged the bloom from my cheek, And nothing but liquid damnation Has slipped past my lips for a week. Since, I hope, as depravity marks me, To make him by contrast so shine That all her approval may his be, And her love irretrievably mine. 73 WHAT HE WANTS IN HIS. I DO not ask thee, Fate, to bake For me so very large a cake ; Choose thou the size but I entreat That though but small, it shall be sweet. Let those who like it have it, I Feel no desire for sawdust pie. I have no wail for all the years I Ve lived on crusts washed down with tears. If I must drain the bitter cup As heretofore, why fill it up. But when my cake, if ever, comes, Vouchsafe it to me full of plums ! 74 BE KIND TO THYSELF. COMES the message from above " As thyself, thy neighbor, love." With myself so vexed I grow Of my weakness weary so, Easier may I tolerate My neighbor than myself not hate. Take not part of thee for whole, Thou art neighbor to thy soul; The ray from heaven that gilds the clod Love thou, for it comes from God. Bear thou with thy human clay Lest thou miss the heaven-sent ray. 75 LOST LIGHT. I CANNOT make her smile come back - That sunshine of her face That used to make this worn earth seem, At times, so gay a place. The same dear eyes look out at me ; The features are the same ; But, oh, the smile is out of them, And I must be to blame ! Sometimes I see it still. I went With her the other day To meet a long-missed friend, and while We still were on the way, Her confidence in waiting love Brought back for me to see The old-time love-light to her eyes That will not shine for me. 7 6 LOST LIGHT. They tell me money waits for me, And reputation, too. I like those gewgaws quite as well As other people do, But I care not for what I have, Nor lust for what I lack One tithe as much as my heart longs To call that lost light back. Come back, dear banished smile, come back, And into exile drive All thoughts, and aims, and jealous hopes, That in thy stead would thrive. Who wants the earth without its sun, And what has life for me That s worth a thought, if, as its price, It leaves me stript of thee ? 77 DATED -FEBRUARY THE i4TH. J /~) LEST be St. Valentine, his day, J J That gives a man a chance to say What shall his state of mind disclose, As much as though he should propose. DEAR MAID : I d offer you this minute My hand, but lo ! there s nothing in it. Enmeshed my heart by your dear lures is, But I m forbid to ask where yours is. And why ? Why, dear, at twenty-three A man is what he s going to be ; Futures are actual in one s head, But /.mess is what women wed. Clients nor patients, nor their fees, Your slave at three-and-twenty sees, And girls with nineteen-year-old blushes Are birds he must leave in the bushes. 7 8 DATED "FEBRUARY THE Yet somehow feelings don t agree With circumstances : Look at me With naught in hand and all to get, Rapping at Fortune s gate and yet In spite of all I know, and see, And listen to, I could not be More hopelessly in love with you If I were rich and sixty-two. That s all : It s nothing that you 11 find Important, but it s off my mind. If one must boil and keep it hid The long year through, to blow the lid Off once helps some, and one may gain Patience therefrom to stand the pain Until the calendar s advance Gives suffering hearts another chance. 79 LOOKING ON. THE dolcefar niente is a delightful game If only he can spare the time who plays it. If one is three-and-twenty and does n t covet fame, And cares less what he says than how he says it If one deliberately can (and never think it loss) Earn women s smiles in hours in which he might be earning dross If one can be content to sit and watch, year after year, The world s great ships go sailing by, and never want to steer If one is not aware that standing still means slipping back, Or if one s not averse to retrograding on one s track The dolcefar niente is a delightful game For people who have lives to spare to play it. So REVULSION. THE very bones of me rebel ; I cannot be resigned ; I am so all-too-tired-to-tell, Of being so refined. My instincts are too nasty nice, I d rather be more brute, And not so easy to disgust, And difficult to suit. My fun is all a razor-edge And needle-point affair, That has no substance back of it. My very woes are spare, And decorous, and qualified. A robust grief to me, With groans, and tears, and takings on, Would be a luxury. 81 REVULSION. I vow I m going to learn to chew, And navy plug, what s more ; I m going to wear a gingham shirt, And spit right on the floor. Cravats and collars I 11 abjure, A slouch shall be my hat, My diet pork, with cabbage (boiled), And beer bock-beer at that ! I 11 learn to drive a speedy nag, And laugh a boisterous laugh ; To down men bluntly in dispute, Or shut them up with chaff. I d go to Congress if I could, And since I can t go there, I d gladly be an alderman Or even run for mayor. I cannot stand it any more, My culture s not the stuff; For though it s pretty to be nice, It s wholesome to be tough. Perhaps when I ve grown coarser-grained, I 11 have less cause to sigh, At finding that my fellows have So much more fun than I. FOLGER. HE died in harness, like the brave Old warrior he was, who dared To lead a hopeless charge, nor spared His strength, nor sought himself to save. His learning freights the lawyer s shelf; Praise him who played so high a part ! But honor more the loyal heart That calmly sacrificed itself. It is not ours to choose what prize Our manhood s hopes shall satisfy ; That we must leave to destiny, And work out that which in us lies, Content, if justly may be carved Upon the slab our dust that guards, Not a mere list of earth s rewards, But nobler tribute, this : "He served." 83 GRANT. NO faultless man was he whose work is done. It is not giv n men to be wholly wise: Still shall our deeds be sometimes ill-advised, While in our veins still human blood shall run. But sundered States, now one again, attest That what he gave his country was his best. Spoiled of his fortune, rifled of his ease, Above all ills his stubborn spirit rose. Declining proffered affluence, he chose Though wrung with pain and weakened by disease That his own shoulders should support the weight Of woe laid on them by ungentle fate. The silent soldier ; not with fulsome gaud May we oppress the chaplet that he wears. Freed from his pain, nor hears he now nor cares If men his fame disparage or applaud. Of his renown be this the mighty meed He served his country in his country s need. 8 4 AD SODALES. Read at a supper of the Class of 1877, Harvard College, June 27, 1882. IS it a dream ! Can it be true That we, un galled by business fetters, Four careless years once loitered through, Sojourners in the home of letters ! Beyond a doubt it is a fact Well ascertained and well attested : The classic shades, though not intact, Are still the shades that we infested. Across from Holyoke House still bloom Horse-chestnut trees with fragrant blossom ; Old Jarvis Field is still the home Of balls, and men who love to toss em. The shriek of car-wheel rounding curve, The listener s blood still duly curdles ; Their graceful height the elms preserve, Oblivious to their tarry girdles. 85 AD SODALES. And still across the winding Charles Come shells, and smells, and rapid barges ; The Freshman still, in force at Carl s, His knowledge of the world enlarges. The Sophomore is still assured That wisdom with himself shall perish ; To Clubs the Junior still is lured ; Still tender fancies Seniors cherish. But yesterday, and we, like these, Were nursing our jejune affections, And putting in for our degrees, And squabbling over class elections. That Class Day night, the window-seat, From which all thought of else was banished While She sat there, so dear so sweet Ah ! since that night five years have vanished ! Another grinds where once we ground ; Another loafs where once we idled ; And others still cavort around With spirits like our s were unbridled. New fellows now presume to woo New girls, whose charms we never wot of; New scouts there are and goodies too, A whole new world that we are not of. 86 AD SODALES. But still, when dismal howls the wind, And sweeps the rain in gusts and flurries, When he who walks looks not behind But turns his collar up and hurries, On certain granite blocks is brought To light, an ancient legend,* showing Where, in the days we knew, t was thought The University was going. And was it going there, or can There truly be a place infernal Where Justice takes it out of man For transient sins by pains eternal ? I do not know ! It is not worth One s while to disinter dead issues ; I know that what make Hell of Earth Are weakened wills and worn-out tissues. And to these mundane hells, they say, The paths that lead at first are cheerful And bright, but further on, the way, If still pursued, grows dark and fearful. * NOTE. On the front of University Hall appeared one morn ing the inscription, " The University is Going to Hell." It was scrubbed off, but is still legible in damp weather. 87 AD SODALES. It may be some of us did get Too far along I do not say so But Well ! we 11 do to pray for yet : We are survivors : let us stay so. The voices of the gentlest tone, The truest eyes, and hearts the kindest ; The minds most conscious of their own Shortcomings, and to ours the blindest ; Ah ! one by one, and year by year, Beneath the graveyard s grassy hummocks We see them laid, and we meet here, Worse men, perhaps, with better stomachs. Death, Flaccus says, with equal kick Salutes the door of prince and peasant ; Nor comes he slower or more quick If life be burdensome or pleasant. T is fit that in his steps should tread Sweet Charity, the all-forgiving Nil nisi bonum of the dead : Be all our censure for the living. We, who are left, be ours to keep Our harnesses from getting rusty; What wit we have from going to sleep ; Our wisdom from becoming musty : AD SODALES. To catch the rein our fellow drops, Mount, and in action growing bolder, Reck not that at the crupper stops His Care with ours, behind our shoulder. And though we realize what dross And fleeting things our hearts are set on ; How much of seeming gain is loss; How many truths we dare not bet on ; Regret the protoplastic germs That launched us in this higgle piggle, And feel ourselves but wriggling v/orms, Still, being worms, do let us wriggle. Who scorns, for aught the world can give, To stoop to lie, or trick, or juggle ; Who knows that he has got to live Though only pain rewards the struggle ; Who nurses to their fullest growth The talents to his care committed, And runs his race, and nothing loath, Be he who may against him pitted, He acts the man, and though the prize May not reward his long endeavor ; Though at the goal which lured his eyes He comes too late, perhaps, or never ; 8 9 AD SODALES. Still day by day by what he does He forms the fact by which to grade him. T was not Sardanapalus, t was Leonidas, whose venture paid him. Perhaps your poet s jester s cap But ill conceals a care-worn wrinkle ; The bells he rattles have, mayhap, Too, too lugubrious a tinkle ; Fill then each glass, and join with me In wine for just such uses given, To whoop her up, with three-times three And bumpers all for Seventy-Seven ! Our Alma Mater s naughty child, Whose conscience never seemed to quicken ; Whom even now she calls her wild- Est, most disreputable chicken : Whose conduct with a wish to please Had seldom much that was in keeping ; Who sowed, Ah me ! a lively breeze, Heaven send no whirlwinds for our reaping, - But grant that while our heads grow cool, Our hearts beat still a genial patter ; That with increased regard for rule, And pocketbooks grown somewhat fatter, AD SODALES. The sluggish mass of things to be May find in us a sprightly leaven ; To make it lighter and more free. the Class of Seventy-Seven. 9 1 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY, BERKELEY THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE STAMPED BELOW Books not returned on time are subject to a fine of 50c per volume after the third day overdue, increasing to $1.00 per volume after the sixth day. Books not in demand may be renewed if application is made before expiration of loan period. DEC 18 i J23 lOm-4, 23 Little brc ther of the rlich. M379 12 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY YC159824