Shapes of Clay Part 36

LUSUS POLITICUS.

Come in, old gentleman. How do you do?

Delighted, I'm sure, that you've called.

I'm a sociable sort of a chap and you Are a pleasant-appearing person, too, With a head agreeably bald.

That's right--sit down in the scuttle of coal And put up your feet in a chair.

It is better to have them there: And I've always said that a hat of lead, Such as I see you wear, Was a better hat than a hat of gla.s.s.

And your boots of bra.s.s Are a natural kind of boots, I swear.

"May you blow your nose on a paper of pins?"

Why, certainly, man, why not?

I rather expected you'd do it before, When I saw you poking it in at the door.

It's dev'lish hot-- The weather, I mean. "You are twins"?

Why, that was evident at the start, From the way that you paint your head In stripes of purple and red, With dots of yellow.

That proves you a fellow With a love of legitimate art.

"You've bitten a snake and are feeling bad"?

That's very sad, But Longfellow's words I beg to recall: Your lot is the common lot of all.

"Horses are trees and the moon is a sneeze"?

That, I fancy, is just as you please.

Some think that way and others hold The opposite view; I never quite knew, For the matter o' that, When everything's been said-- May I offer this mat If you _will_ stand on your head?

I suppose I look to be upside down From your present point of view.

It's a giddy old world, from king to clown, And a topsy-turvy, too.

But, worthy and now uninverted old man, _You're_ built, at least, on a normal plan If ever a truth I spoke.

Smoke?

Your air and conversation Are a liberal education, And your clothes, including the metal hat And the brazen boots--what's that?

"You never could stomach a Democrat Since General Jackson ran?

You're another sort, but you predict That your party'll get consummately licked?"

Good G.o.d! what a queer old man!

BEREAVEMENT.

A Countess (so they tell the tale) Who dwelt of old in Arno's vale, Where ladies, even of high degree, Know more of love than of A.B.C, Came once with a prodigious bribe Unto the learned village scribe, That most discreet and honest man Who wrote for all the lover clan, Nor e'er a secret had betrayed-- Save when inadequately paid.

"Write me," she sobbed--"I pray thee do-- A book about the Prince di Giu-- A book of poetry in praise Of all his works and all his ways; The G.o.dlike grace of his address, His more than woman's tenderness, His courage stern and lack of guile, The loves that wantoned in his smile.

So great he was, so rich and kind, I'll not within a fortnight find His equal as a lover. O, My G.o.d! I shall be drowned in woe!"

"What! Prince di Giu has died!" exclaimed The honest man for letters famed, The while he pocketed her gold; "Of what'?--if I may be so bold."

Fresh storms of tears the lady shed: "I stabbed him fifty times," she said.

AN INSCRIPTION

FOR A STATUE OF NAPOLEON, AT WEST POINT.

A famous conqueror, in battle brave, Who robbed the cradle to supply the grave.

His reign laid quant.i.ties of human dust: He fell upon the just and the unjust.

A PICKBRAIN.

What! imitate me, friend? Suppose that you With agony and difficulty do What I do easily--what then? You've got A style I heartily wish _I_ had not.

If I from lack of sense and you from choice Grieve the judicious and the unwise rejoice, No equal censure our deserts will suit-- We both are fools, but you're an ape to boot!

CONVALESCENT.

"By good men's prayers see Grant restored!"

Shouts Talmage, pious creature!

Yes, G.o.d, by supplication bored From every droning preacher, Exclaimed: "So be it, tiresome crew-- But I've a crow to pick with _you_."

THE NAVAL CONSTRUCTOR.

He looked upon the s.h.i.+ps as they All idly lay at anchor, Their sides with gorgeous workmen gay-- The riveter and planker--

Republicans and Democrats, Statesmen and politicians.

He saw the swarm of prudent rats Swimming for land positions.

He marked each "belted cruiser" fine, Her poddy life-belts floating In tether where the hungry brine Impinged upon her coating.

He noted with a proud regard, As any of his cla.s.s would, The poplar mast and poplar yard Above the hull of ba.s.s-wood.

He saw the Eastlake frigate tall, With quaintly carven gable, Hip-roof and dormer-window--all With ivy formidable.

In short, he saw our country's hope In best of all conditions-- Equipped, to the last spar and rope, By working politicians.

He boarded then the n.o.blest s.h.i.+p And from the harbor glided.

"Adieu, adieu!" fell from his lip.

Verdict: "He suicided."