Volume Iv Part 45 (1/2)
I blotted out the score with tears, And paid the money down; And took the maid of thirteen years Back to her mother's town.
And though the past with surges wild Fond memories may sever, The vision of that happy child Will leave my spirits never!
Rudyard Kipling [1865-1936]
FATHER WILLIAM From ”Alice in Wonderland”
After Southey
”You are old, Father William,” the young man said, ”And your hair has become very white; And yet you incessantly stand on your head-- Do you think, at your age, it is right?”
”In my youth,” Father William replied to his son, ”I feared it might injure the brain; But, now that I'm perfectly sure I have none, Why, I do it again and again.”
”You are old,” said the youth, ”as I mentioned before, And have grown most uncommonly fat; Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door-- Pray, what is the reason of that?”
”In my youth,” said the sage, as he shook his gray locks, ”I kept all my limbs very supple By the use of this ointment--one s.h.i.+lling the box-- Allow me to sell you a couple?”
”You are old,” said the youth, ”and your jaws are too weak For anything tougher than suet; Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak-- Pray, how did you manage to do it?”
”In my youth,” said his father, ”I took to the law, And argued each case with my wife; And the muscular strength which it gave to my jaw, Has lasted the rest of my life.”
”You are old,” said the youth, ”one would hardly suppose That your eye was as steady as ever; Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose-- What made you so awfully clever?”
”I have answered three questions and that is enough,”
Said his father; ”don't give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I'll kick you downstairs!”
Lewis Carroll [1832-1898]
THE NEW ARRIVAL After Campbell
There came to port last Sunday night The queerest little craft, Without an inch of rigging on; I looked and looked--and laughed!
It seemed so curious that she Should cross the Unknown water, And moor herself within my room-- My daughter! O, my daughter!
Yet by these presents witness all She's welcome fifty times, And comes consigned in hope and love-- And common-metre rhymes.
She has no manifest but this; No flag floats o'er the water; She's too new for the British Lloyds-- My daughter! O, my daughter!
Ring out, wild bells--and tame ones too; Ring out the lover's moon.
Ring in the little worsted socks, Ring in the bib and spoon.
Ring out the muse, ring in the nurse, Ring in the milk and water.
Away with paper, pen, and ink-- My daughter! O, my daughter!
George Was.h.i.+ngton Cable [1844-1925]