Cobwebs From A Library Corner Part 7

_AN AUTUMNAL ROMANCE_

A LEAF fell in love with the soft green lawn, He deemed her the sweetest and best, And then on a dreary November dawn He withered and died on her breast.

_THE COUNTRY IN JULY_

WHERE glistening in the softness of the night The vagrant will-o'-wisps do greet the sight; Where fragrance baffling permeates the breeze That gently flouts the gra.s.ses and the trees; Where every flying thing doth seem to be Instinct with sweetly sensuous melody; Where hills and dales a.s.sume their warmest phase, With here and there a scarf of opal haze To soften their luxuriant attire; Where one can almost hear the elfin choir Across the meadow-land, down in the wood, In songs of gladness-there are all things good.

Ah! ye who seek the spot where joys abide, Awake! Awake! Seek out the country-side, And through the blue-gray July haze see life All free from care, from sorrow, and from strife.

_MAY 30, 1893_

IT seemed to be but chance, yet who shall say That 'twas not part of Nature's own sweet way,

That on the field where once the cannon's breath Lay many a hero cold and stark in death,

Some little children, in the after-years, Had come to play among the gra.s.sy spears,

And, all unheeding, when their romp was done, Had left a wreath of wild flowers over one

Who fought to save his country, and whose lot It was to die unknown and rest forgot?

_THE CURSE OF WEALTH_

"WHAT shall I put my dollars in?" he asked, in wild dismay.

"I've fifty thousand of 'em, and I'd like to keep 'em too.

I'd like to put them by to serve some future rainy day, But in these times of queer finance what can a fellow do?

"A railway bond is picturesque, and the supply is great, But strangely like a novel that upon occasion drags, Of which the critics of the time in hackneyed phrases state, 'The work has certain value, but the int'rest often flags!'

"The same is true of railway shares, 'tis safer to invest In ploughshares, so it seems to me, in this unhappy time.

Some think great wealth a blessing, but it cannot stand the test; He's happier by far than I who's but a single dime.

"He does not lie awake at night and fret and fume, to think Of bank officials on a spree with what he's toiled to get.

He is not driven by his woe quite to the verge of drink By wondering if his balance in the bank remains there yet.

"He does not pick the paper up in terror every night To see if V.B.G. is up, or P.D.Q. is down; It does not fill his anxious soul with nerve-destroying fright To hear the Wall Street rumors that are flying 'bout the town.

"Ah, better had I ta'en that cash that I have skimped to save, And spent it on my living and my pleasures day by day!

I would not now be goaded nigh unto my waiting grave, By wondering how the deuce to keep those dollars mine for aye.

"I'd not be bankrupt in my nerves and prematurely old, These golden shackles must be burst; I must again be free.

What Ho without! My ducats-to the winds with all my gold, That I may once again enjoy the rest of poverty."

_THE RHYME OF THE ANCIENT POPULIST_

IT was an ancient populist, His beard was long and gray, And punctuated by his fist, He had his little say: "This is the age of gold," he said, "'Tis gold for b.u.t.ter, gold for bread, Gold for bonds and gold for fun; Gold for all things 'neath the sun."

Then with a smile He shook his head.

"Just wait awhile,"

He slyly said.

"When we get in and run the State We'll tackle gold, we'll legislate.

We'll pa.s.s an act And make a fact By which these gold-bugs will be whacked Till they're as cold As is their gold.

We're going to make a statute law by which 'twill be decreed That standards are abolished, for a standard favors greed.

This is the country of the free, and free this land shall be As soon as we the 'people' have our opportunity, And he who has to pay a bill Can pay in whate'er suits his will.

The tailor? Let him take his coats And pay his notes; Or if perchance He's long on pants, Let trousers be His _. s. d._ The baker! Let his landlord take His rent in cake, Or anything the man can bake.

And if a plumber wants a crumb, He may unto the baker come And plumb.

A joker needing hats or cloaks Can go and pay for them with jokes, And so on: what a fellow's got Shall pay for things that he has not.

If beggars' rags were cash, you'd see No longer any beggary; In short, there'd be no poverty."

"A splendid scheme," quoth I; "but stay!

What of the nation's credit, pray?"

"Ha-ha! ho-ho!" he loudly roared.

"We'll leave that problem to the Lord.

And if He fails to keep us straight Once more we'll have to legislate, And so create, Confounding greed, As much of credit as we need."

_ONE OF THE NAMELESS GREAT_

I KNEW a man who died in days of yore, To whom no monument is like to rise; And yet there never lived a mortal more Deserving of a shaft to pierce the skies.

His chiefest wish strong friends.h.i.+ps was to make; He cared but little for this poor world's pelf; He shared his joys with every one who'd take, And kept his sorrows strictly to himself.

_IN FEBRUARY DAYS_

FAIR Nature, like the mother of a wayward child Who needs must chide the offspring of her heart, Disguiseth for a season all the sweet and mild Maternal softness for an austere part.

And 'neath her frown the errant earth in winter seems Prostrate to lie, and petulant of mood; Restrained in icy fetters all the babbling streams, Like naughty babes who're learning to be good.