ODE Lx.x.xV: AD LESBIAM

Hark thou, my Lesbia, there be none existent Can truly say she hath been loved by me As thou hast been. No faith is more consistent Than that which V. Catullus gives to thee.

How reasonless the state of an emotion!

For wert thou faultless, perfect, and sublime, I could not like thee; nor would my devotion And love be less wert thou the Queen of Crime.

The Rich Man

The rich man has his motor-car, His country and his town estate.

He smokes a fifty-cent cigar And jeers at Fate.

He frivols through the livelong day, He knows not Poverty her pinch.

His lot seems light, his heart seems gay, He has a cinch.

Yet though my lamp burns low and dim, Though I must slave for livelihood-- Think you that I would change with him?

You bet I would!

To-night

_ Love me to-night! Fold your dear arms around me-- Hurt me--I do but glory in your might!

Tho' your fierce strength absorb, engulf, and drown me, Love me to-night!

The world's wild stress sounds less than our own heart-beat Its puny nothingness sinks out of sight.

Just you and I and Love alone are left, sweet-- Love me to-night!

Love me to-night! I care not for to-morrow-- Look in my eyes, aglow with Love's own light: Full soon enough will come daylight, and sorrow-- Love me to-night!

_ --BEATRICE M. BARRY, in the _Banquet Table_.

We can't to-night! We're overworked and busy; We've got a lot of paragraphs to write; Although your invitation drives us dizzy, We can't to-night!

But, Trixie, we admit we're greatly smit with The heart you picture--incandescent, white.

We must confess that you have made a hit with Us here to-night.

O Beatrice! O Tempora! O Heaven!

List to our lyre the while the strings we smite; Where shall you be at--well, say half-past seven To-morrow night?

Those Two Boys

When Bill was a lad he was terribly bad.

He worried his parents a lot; He'd lie and he'd swear and pull little girls' hair; His boyhood was naught but a blot.

At play and in school he would fracture each rule-- In mischief from autumn to spring; And the villagers knew when to manhood he grew He would never amount to a thing.

When Jim was a child he was not very wild; He was known as a good little boy; He was honest and bright and the teacher's delight-- To his mother and father a joy.

All the neighbours were sure that his virtue'd endure, That his life would be free of a spot; They were certain that Jim had a great head on him And that Jim would amount to a lot.

And Jim grew to manhood and honour and fame And bears a good name; While Bill is shut up in a dark prison cell-- You never can tell.

Help

The Pa.s.sionate Householder to his Love

Come, live with us and be our cook, And we will all the whimsies brook That German, Irish, Swede, and Slav And all the dear domestics have.

And you shall sit upon the stoop What time we go and cook the soup, And you shall hear, both night and day, Melodious pianolas play.

And we will make the beds, of course, You'll have two autos and a horse, A lady to Marcel your tresses, And all the madame's half-worn dresses.

Your gowns shall be of lace and silk, Your laving shall be done in milk.

Two trained physicians when you cough, And Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays off.

When you are mashing Irish spuds You'll wear the very finest duds.

If good to you these prospects look, Come, live with us and be our cook.

On callers we have put no stops, We love the iceman and the cops, And no alarm clock with its ticks And bell to ring at half-past six.

O Gretchen, Bridget, Hulda, Mary, Come, be our genius culinary.

If good to you these prospects look, Come, live with us and be our cook.

The Servants

With genuflexions to Kipling's _"The Ladies"_

We've taken our cooks where we've found 'em; We've answered many an ad; We've had our pickin' o' servants, And most of the lot was bad.

Some was Norahs an' Bridgets; Tillie she came last fall; Claras and Fannies and Lenas and Annies, And now we've got none at all.

Now, we don't know much about servants, For, takin' 'em all along, You never can tell till you've tried 'em, And then you are like to be wrong.

There's times when you'll think that they're perfect; There's times when you'll think that they're b.u.m, But the things you'll learn from those that have gone May help you with those to come.

Norah, she landed from Dublin, Green as acushla machree; Norah was willing and anxious To learn what a servant should be.

We told Mrs. Kirk all about her-- She offered her seven more per-- Now Norah she works, as you know, for the Kirks-- And we learned about servants from her.

Lena we got from an "office"; Lena was saving and Dutch-- Thought that our bills were enormous, And told us we spent far too much.