On golden-yellow oft my fancy dwells.
"Tis almost G.o.dlike, as it sparkles through The effervescent fizz; and wondrous spells It casts o"er me when coined in dollars, too.
Hence, friend, it is I cannot specify What hues particular my joys enhance.
I like them all; their popularity At special times depends on circ.u.mstance.
_CONTENTMENT IN NATURE_
I WOULD not change my joys for those Of Emperors and Kings.
What has my gentle friend the rose Told them, if aught, do you suppose- The rose that tells me things?
What secrets have they had with trees?
What romps with gra.s.sy spears?
What know they of the mysteries Of b.u.t.terflies and honey-bees, Who whisper in my ears?
What says the sunbeam unto them?
What tales have brooklets told?
Is there within their diadem A single rival to the gem The dewy daisies hold?
What sympathy have they with birds Whose songs are songs of mine?
Do they e"er hear, as though in words "Twas lisped, the message of the herds Of grazing, lowing kine?
Ah no! Give me no lofty throne, But just what Nature yields.
Let me but wander on, alone If need be, so that all my own Are woods and dales and fields.
_THE HEROIC GUNNER_
When the order was given to withdraw from battle for breakfast, one of the gun-captains, a privileged character, begged Commodore Dewey to let them keep on fighting until "we"ve wiped "em out."-_War Anecdote in Daily Paper._
AT the battle of Manila, In the un-Pacific sea, Stood a gunner with his mad up Just as far as it could be- Stood a gunner brave and ready For the hated enemy.
Near the Isles of Philopena Raged the battle all the morn, And the plucky Spanish sailors By the shot and sh.e.l.l were torn; And the flag that floated o"er them To oblivion was borne.
Every cannon belched projectiles, Every cannon breathed forth h.e.l.l, Every cannon mowed the foeman From the deck into the swell, When amid the din of battle Rang the silvery breakfast-bell.
"Stop your shooting! Come to breakfast!"
Cried the gallant Commodore.
"After eating we will let them Have a rousing old encore.
Stow your lanyards, O my Jackies; Let the cannon cease to roar."
Then upspake the fighting gunner: "Dewey, don"t, I beg of you.
What"s the use of drinking coffee Till we"ve put this scrimmage through?
If there"s any one who"s hungry, Won"t this Spanish omelet do?
"Farragut would not have done it When through Mobile Bay he sped.
Why then, Dewey, should we breakfast Till we"ve plunked "em full of lead?
Let our motto be as his was- _d.a.m.n the fishb.a.l.l.s! Go ahead!_"
_THE PATHETIC TALE OF THE CADDY BOY_
"COME here," said I, "oh caddy boy, and tell me how it haps You cling so fast unto these links; not like the other chaps, Who like to dally on the streets and play the game of c.r.a.ps?
"Is it that you enjoy the work of carrying a bag While others speed the festive ball o"er valley, hill, and crag?
And do your spirits never seem to falter or to flag?
"I"ve watched you many a day, my lad, and puzzled o"er the fact That you are so attentive to the game; your every act Doth indicate perfection-there"s been nothing you have lacked.
"And I would know just why it is that you so perfect seem- In all my golfing days you"ve been the very brightest gleam- Or am I lying home in bed and are you just a dream?"
"Oh, sir," said he, "I caddy here because I love my pa; I cling unto these gladsome links because I love my ma; In short, I love my parents, sir, and these my reasons are:
""Twas but a year ago, good sir, when first this ancient sport Came in the portals of our home-home of the sweetest sort; When golf came through the window, sir, why home went through the port.
"My father first he took it up, and many a weary night My mother with us children waited up by candle-light, In hopes that he"d return and free us from our lonely plight.
"Then mother she went after him-alas! that it should be- And shortly learned the game herself-she plays it famously- Which left us children orphans, I and all my brothers three.
"They play it here, they play it there, they play it everywhere; No matter what the weather, be it wet or be it fair, And for the cares of golf they"ve dropped their every other care.
"And so it is that we poor lads are forced to leave our home, And join the ranks of caddy boys who o"er the fields do roam In search of little golf-b.a.l.l.s in the sunlight and the gloam;
"For some day we are hoping that our eyes again will see Our most beloved parents on some putting-green or tee; A sight to gladden all our hearts if it should ever be."
And lo-I looked upon that boy-his face was sweet and sad, And to my heart there came a twinge, for in that little lad I recognized my eldest son-_I_ was that wicked dad!
And now together we are out on links at home and far.
He and his three small brothers with their shamed, repentant pa, A-looking here and looking there to find their dear mamma.
_GARRULOUS WISDOM_
I KNOW a wondrous man-my neighbor he; He"s ripe in years, and great in understanding.
He"s versed in art, and in philosophy He shows a mind that"s verily commanding.