You know my "pomes." Well, old man, I was pretty young when I got them out of my system, and they seem rather raw to me now--I'm getting along, you know; so I've been thinking that I'd do 'em over again, file 'em down, as we used to say. Enclosed is the result of my labors.

I presume you are wondering why I have done them into United States; but you know perfectly well that a poet as much alive as I am to-day must not only keep up with the procession, but choose a thought-vehicle that has good springs to it--"beaucoup resiliency," I s'pose you'd call it.

I hope you will like these new lines of mine better than their prototypes.

Yours regardfully, Q. H. F.

_Helngon, November 15._

I

TO ARISTIUS FUSCUS

"_Integer vitae scelerisque purus._"

Fuscus, old scout, if a guy's on the level That's all the a.r.s.enal he'll have to tote; Up to St. Peter or down to the Devil, No need to carry a gun in his coat.

Prowling around, as you know is my habit, I met a wolf in the forest, and he Beat it for Wolfville and ran like a rabbit.

(He was some wolf, too, receive it from me.)

Where I may happen to camp is no matter,-- Paris, Chicago, Ostend or St. Joe,-- Like the old dame in the nursery patter I shall make music wherever I go.

Drop me in Dawson or chuck me in Cadiz, Dump me in Kansas or plant me in Rome,-- I shall keep on making love to the ladies: Where there's a skirt is my notion of home.

II

DUETTO

"_Donec gratus eram._"

HORACE:

What time my Lydia owned me lord No Persian king had much on Horace; And when you blew my bed and board I was some sad, believe me, Mawruss.

LYDIA:

What time you loved no other She, Before this Chloe person signed you, I flourished like a green bay tree; Now I'm the Girl You Left Behind You.

HORACE:

This Chloe dame that takes my eye Has so peculiar an allurance I would not hesitate to die If she could cop my life insurance.

LYDIA:

Well, as for that, I know a gent With whom it's some delight to dally.

With me he makes an awful dent; I'd perish once or twice for Cally.

HORACE:

Suppose our former love should go Into a new de luxe edition?

Suppose I tie a can to Chlo, And let you play your old position?

LYDIA:

Why, then, you cork, you b.u.t.terfly, You sweet, philandering, perjured villain, With you I'd love to live and die, Tho' Cally boy were twice as killin'.

III

TO PYRRHA

"_Quis multa gracilis._"

What young tin whistle gent, Bedaubed with barber's scent,-- What cheapskate waits on you To woo, O Pyrrha?

For whom the puff and rat And transformation that You bought a year ago Or so, O Pyrrha?

Peeved? Not a bit. Not I I'm sorry for the guy.

He draws a lovely lime This time, O Pyrrha!

I've dipped. The wet ain't fine.

Hung on the votive line My duds. The G.o.ds can see I'm free.

Eh, Pyrrha!

IV

TO ARISTIUS FUSCUS

"_My sweetly-smiling, sweetly-speaking Lalage._"

Fuscus, take a tip from me: This here job's no bed of roses, Not the cinch it seems to be, Not the pipe that one supposes.

What care I, tho', if I may Lallygag with Lalage.

Every day there's ink to spill, Tho' I may not feel like working.

Every day a hole to fill; One must plug it--there's no shirking.

Oh, that I might all the day Lallygag with Lalage!

People say, "Gee! what a snap, Turning paragraphs and verses.

He's the band on Fortune's cap, Gets a barrel of ses-_terces_."

Let them gossip, while I play Hide and seek with Lalage.