Something Else Again Part 16

I wrote _this_ piece at Inspiration Point.

The Ballad of the Thoughtless Waiter

I saw him lying cold and dead Who yesterday was whole.

"Why," I inquired, "hath he expired?

And why hath fled his soul?"

"But yesterday," his comrade said, "All health was his, and strength; And this is why he came to die-- If I may speak at length.

"But yesternight at dinnertime At a not unknown cafe, He had a frugal meal as you Might purchase any day.

"The check for his so simple fare Was only eighty cents, And a dollar bill with a right good will Came from his opulence.

"The waiter brought him twenty cents.

'Twas only yesternight That he softly said who now is dead 'Oh, keep it. 'At's a' right.'

"And the waiter plainly uttered 'Thanks,'

With no hint of scorn or pride; And my comrade's heart gave a sudden start And my comrade up and died."

Now waiters overthwart this land, In tearooms and in dives, Mute be your lips whatever the tips, And save your customers' lives.

Rus Vs. Urbs

Whene'er the penner of this pome Regards a lovely country home, He sighs, in words not insincere, "I think I'd like to live out here."

And when the builder of this ditty Returns to this pulsating city, The perpetrator of this pome Yearns for a lovely country home.

"I'm Out of the Army Now"

When first I doffed my olive drab, I thought, delightedly though mutely, "Henceforth I shall have pleasure ab- Solutely."

Dull with the drudgery of war, Sick of the very name of fighting, I yearned, I thought, for something more Exciting.

The rainbow be my guide, quoth I; My suit shall be a brave and proud one Gay-hued my socks; and oh, my tie A loud one!

For me the theatre and the dance; Primrose the path I would be wending; For me the roses of romance Unending.

Those were my inner thoughts that day (And those of many another million) When once again I should be a Civilian.

I would not miss the old o. d.; (Monotony I didn't much like) I would not miss the reveille, And such like.

I don't ... And do I now enjoy My walks along the primrose way so?

Is civil life the life? Oh, boy, I'll say so.

"Oh Man!"

Man hath harnessed the lightning; Man hath soared to the skies; Mountain and hill are clay to his will; Skilful he is, and wise.

Sea to sea hath he wedded, Canceled the chasm of s.p.a.ce, Given defeat to cold and heat; Splendour is his, and grace.

His are the topless turrets; His are the plumbless pits; Earth is slave to his architrave, Heaven is thrall to his wits.

And so in the golden future, He who hath dulled the storm (As said above) may make a glove That'll keep my fingers warm.

An Ode in Time of Inauguration

(March 4, 1913)

Thine aid, O Muse, I consciously beseech; I crave thy succour, ask for thine a.s.sistance That men may cry: "Some little ode! A peach!"

O Muse, grant me the strength to go the distance!

For odes, I learn, are dithyrambs, and long; Exalted feeling, dignity of theme And complicated structure guide the song.

(All this from Webster's book of high esteem.)

Let complicated structure not becloud My lucid lines, nor weight with overloading.

To Sh.e.l.ley, Keats, and Wordsworth and that crowd I yield the bays for ground and lofty oding.

Mine but the task to trace a country's growth, As evidenced by each inauguration From Was.h.i.+ngton's to Wilson's primal oath-- In these U. S., the celebrated nation.

But stay! or ever that I start to sing, Or e'er I loose my fine poetic forces, I ought, I think, to do the decent thing, To wit: give credit to my many sources: Barnes's "Brief History of the U. S. A.,"

Bryce, Ridpath, Scudder, Fiske, J. B. McMaster, A book of odes, a Webster, a Roget-- The bibliography of this poetaster.

Flow, flow, my pen, as gently as sweet Afton ever flowed!

An thou dost ill, shall this be still a poor thing, but mine ode.

G. W., initial prex, Right down in Wall Street, New York City, Took his first oath. Oh, multiplex The whimsies quaint, the comments witty One might evolve from that! I scorn To mock the spot where he was sworn.

On next Inauguration Day He took the avouchment sempiternal Way down in Phil-a-delph-i-a, Where rises now the L. H. Journal.

His Farewell Speech in '96 Said: "'Ware the Trusts and all their tricks!"

John Adams fell on darksome days: March Fourth was bl.u.s.tery and sleety; The French behaved in horrid ways Until John Jay drew up a treaty.

Came the Eleventh Amendment, too, Providing that--but why tell _you_?