The Bee's Bayonet Part 12

But Devils, like men, reach the ends of their ropes, And have disappointments and unfulfilled hopes,-- So Satan discovered, too late we are told, The climate at Murray's was too beastly cold.

His imps all contracted pneumonia and died; So he buried them here in the Pit, side by side, Near Athens, P. A., by the River Chemung, Where they've been unmolested till now, and unsung.

And there their bones bleached, in the Sulphuric Pits, Until Archaeologists came with their kits And made excavations, not thinking of harm, But raising the devil at Rube Murray's Farm.

Now Satan's _exposed_ and his ossified get, (A few yet remain in the flesh, I regret!) And Murray of Athens is living, I wot On skeletons dug from this h.e.l.l-enic spot.

SUB ROSA

The Busy Bee, to gather honey, goes Touching the clover bloom and then the rose; An easy prey, the clover blossom yields Its treasures garnered from the fragrant fields; But all the sweetness that the rose adorns, Protected is from theft by jealous thorns.

The Bee, ergo, in quest the flowers among, Gets sometimes honey and gets sometimes _stung_.

WHITMANESQUE

The snow is falling on the hemlock boughs: Courage, Comrade, Spring will come again!

The birds are leaving the evergreen trees, And that's why they are not deciduous.

O, Winter! I shake thy icy hand, And, shaking, shovel the beautiful snow: But what shall I do with such an abundance?

It is already piled high in my neighbor's yard, And he is watching me from his attic window.

And yet more snow! How pure you seem tho' falling!

AN APEOLOGY

This is the Ape, made famous, you'll agree, By Darwin's Evolution Theory.

His destiny fulfilled, he rests at ease With tribal Apes, Baboons and Chimpanzees; Preferring, so, to recreation find, Than with his tailless counterpart, Mankind, A doubtful branch of his posterity: And makes a _monkey_, thus, of you and me.

THE BUG

This is the Bug, unable to resist The blandishments of Entomologist.

He soon succ.u.mbs to net or trap or pin And fills his place the _cabinet_ within.

A volume then explains his habits, source, And all his secrets and his aims of course; Which leads me to conclude, when facts are dug, The Man of Science is the biggest "Bug."

WAKE, MY LOVE!

Darling, I my vigil keep Close beside you, while you sleep.

Let the Dream of Love abide!

Cupid will not be denied; For he whispers to you now, And prints kisses on your brow; While his velvet finger tips Hush the protest on your lips.

Wake, My Love! And do not chide Cupid pleading by your side!

Darkness lingers in the skies Till the light of your bright eyes Adds new brilliance to the sun: Not till then is Day begun!

Ope your lips and speak one word-- Sweetest cadence ever heard!

Loose your tresses! Let them rest On your snowy, virgin breast, And entwine these roses rare In the ringlets nestling there.

Wake, My Love! The sunbeams shed Golden treasures on your head; While aeolus woos your cheeks, And exacts the kiss he seeks.

Love, aquiver, draws his bow

And demands that sleep must go; For a jealous elf is he Who will brook no rivalry.

So let Love a Kingdom make In his Heart for Thee: Awake!

FIRST PSALM

Happy indeed is he who goes The Straight and Narrow Way, And heedeth not the lure of those Who from His precepts stray.

With joy observeth he the acts The Master doth proclaim, And, day or night, no fervor lacks To bless His holy name.

And he shall be a fruitful tree Deep-rooted in the Truth; And not a leaf shall withered be Nor fruitage cease, forsooth.

But those who follow not the Course The Master hath decreed, Shall shrivel and decay, perforce, And barren be their seed.

It follows then, that those who sin Must turn again to clay, While righteous men are gathered in On Resurrection Day.

For G.o.d rewards the Pure in Heart And knoweth all their needs; While those who from his ways depart Shall be like broken reeds.

_NOT_ PEACE, BUT REVENGE!

Peace? do you say? When my homestead is razed, And Death stalks the fields where my cattle once grazed; And the Dear One is dead Whom I courted and wed, The Joy of my Life when the hearthstone fires blazed.

Peace? What a travesty! Give back my wife And the brave little son, who gave up his life That she might escape From the murder or rape Of helmeted hordes in the unequal strife!

Peace? Where is my father? Cleaning your shoes!

Like a thousand old men you maim and abuse.

He was true to his Land, So you cut off his hand And left him but slav'ry or famine to choose.