And thrust it into her head, or hair.
Then she took something off the bed, And hooked it onto her hair, or head, And piled it high, and piled it higher, And drove it home with staples of wire!
And the young man anxiously--waited.
Then she took a thing she called a "puff"
And some very peculiar whitish stuff, And using about a half a peck, She spread it over her face and neck, (Deceit was a thing she hated!) And she looked as fair as a lilied bower, Or a pound of lard or a sack of flour;-- And the young man wearily--waited.
Then she took a garment of awful shape And it wasn"t a waist, nor yet a cape, But it looked like a piece of ancient mail, Or an instrument from a Russian jail, And then with a fearful groan and gasp, She squeezed herself in its deathly clasp-- So fair and yet so fated!
And then with a move like I don"t know what, She tied it on with a double knot;-- And the young man wofully--waited.
Then she put on a dozen different things, A mixture of b.u.t.tons and hooks and strings, Till she strongly resembled a notion store; Then, taking some seventeen pins or more, She thrust them into her ruby lips, Then stuck them around from waist to hips, And never once hesitated.
And the maiden didn"t know, perhaps, That the man below had had seven naps, And that now he sleepily--waited.
And then she tried to put on her hat, Ah me, a trying ordeal was that!
She tipped it high and she tried it low, But every way that the thing would go Only made her more agitated.
It wouldn"t go straight and it caught her hair, And she wished she could hire a man to swear, But alas, the only man lingering there Was the one who wildly--waited.
And then before she could take her leave, She had to puff up her monstrous sleeve.
Then a little dab here and a wee pat there.
And a touch or two to her hindmost hair, Then around the room with the utmost care She thoughtfully circulated.
Then she seized her gloves and a chamoiskin, Some breath perfume and a long stickpin, A bonbon box and a cloak and some Eau-de-cologne and chewing-gum, Her opera gla.s.s and sealskin m.u.f.f, A fan and a heap of other stuff; Then she hurried down, but ere she spoke, Something about the maiden broke.
So she scurried back to the winding stair, And the young man looked in wild despair, And then he--evaporated.
_Edmund Vance Cooke._
Invictus
Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever G.o.ds may be For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circ.u.mstance I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is b.l.o.o.d.y, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my soul.
_William E. Henley._
Katie Lee and Willie Grey
Two brown heads with tossing curls, Red lips shutting over pearls, Bare feet, white and wet with dew, Two eyes black, and two eyes blue; Little girl and boy were they, Katie Lee and Willie Grey.
They were standing where a brook, Bending like a shepherd"s crook, Flashed its silver, and thick ranks Of willow fringed its mossy banks; Half in thought, and half in play, Katie Lee and Willie Grey.
They had cheeks like cherries red; He was taller--"most a head; She, with arms like wreaths of snow, Swung a basket to and fro As she loitered, half in play, Chattering to Willie Grey.
"Pretty Katie," Willie said-- And there came a dash of red Through the brownness of his cheek-- "Boys are strong and girls are weak, And I"ll carry, so I will, Katie"s basket up the hill."
Katie answered with a laugh, "You shall carry only half"; And then, tossing back her curls, "Boys are weak as well as girls."
Do you think that Katie guessed Half the wisdom she expressed?
Men are only boys grown tall; Hearts don"t change much, after all; And when, long years from that day, Katie Lee and Willie Grey Stood again beside the brook, Bending like a shepherd"s crook,--
Is it strange that Willie said, While again a dash of red Crossed the brownness of his cheek, "I am strong and you are weak; Life is but a slippery steep, Hung with shadows cold and deep.
"Will you trust me, Katie dear,-- Walk beside me without fear?
May I carry, if I will, All your burdens up the hill?"
And she answered, with a laugh, "No, but you may carry half."
Close beside the little brook, Bending like a shepherd"s crook, Washing with its silver hands Late and early at the sands, Is a cottage, where to-day Katie lives with Willie Grey.
In a porch she sits, and lo!
Swings a basket to and fro-- Vastly different from the one That she swung in years agone, _This_ is long and deep and wide, And has--_rockers at the side_.
Abou Ben Adhem
Abou Ben Adhem--may his tribe increase!-- Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw, within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, An angel, writing in a book of gold.
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the Presence in the room he said, "What writest thou?" The vision raised its head, And, with a look made all of sweet accord, Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord."
"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"
Replied the angel.--Abou spoke more low, But cheerily still; and said, "I pray thee, then, Write me as one that loves his fellow-men."
The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night It came again, with a great wakening light, And showed the names whom love of G.o.d had blessed: And, lo! Ben Adhem"s name led all the rest.
_Leigh Hunt._
In School-Days
Still sits the school-house by the road, A ragged beggar sunning; Around it still the sumachs grow, And blackberry vines are running.
Within, the master"s desk is seen, Deep scarred by raps official; The warping floor, the battered seats, The jack-knife"s carved initial;
The charcoal frescoes on its wall; Its door"s worn sill, betraying The feet that, creeping slow to school, Went storming out to playing!