Part 61 (1/2)
The little-necks,--in number six,-- That from their pearly sh.e.l.ls she picks And swallows whole,--ah, is it selfish To wish my heart among those sh.e.l.l-fish?
”But Phyllis is another's wife; And if she should absorb thy life 'Twould leave thy bosom vacant.”--Well, I'd keep at least the empty sh.e.l.l!
V
THE RECREANT CLAM
For the _Outlook_
Low dost thou lie amid the languid ooze, Because thy slothful spirit doth refuse The bliss of battle and the strain of strife.
Rise, craven clam, and lead the strenuous life!
A FAIRY TALE
For the Mark Twain Dinner, December 5, 1905
Some three-score years and ten ago A prince was born at Florida, Mo.; And though he came _incognito_, With just the usual yells of woe, The watchful fairies seemed to know Precisely what the row meant; For when he was but five days old, (December fifth as I've been told,) They pattered through the midnight cold, And came around his crib, to hold A ”Council of Endowment.”
”I give him Wit,” the eldest said, And stooped above the little bed, To touch his forehead round and red.
”Within this bald, unfurnished head, Where wild luxuriant locks shall spread And wave in years hereafter, I kindle now the lively spark, That still shall flash by day and dark, And everywhere he goes shall mark His way with light and laughter.”
The fairies laughed to think of it That such a rosy, wrinkled bit Of flesh should be endowed with Wit!
But something serious seemed to hit The mind of one, as if a fit Of fear had come upon her.
”I give him Truth,” she quickly cried, ”That laughter may not lead aside To paths where scorn and falsehood hide,-- I give him Truth and Honour!”
”I give him Love,” exclaimed the third; And as she breathed the mystic word, I know not if the baby heard, But softly in his dream he stirred, And twittered like a little bird, And stretched his hands above him.
The fairy's gift was sealed and signed With kisses twain the deed to bind: ”A heart of love to human-kind, And human-kind to love him!”
”Now stay your giving!” cried the Queen.
”These gifts are pa.s.sing rich I ween; And if reporters should be mean Enough to spy upon this scene, 'Twould make all other babies green With envy at the rumour.
Yet since I love this child, forsooth, I'll mix your gifts, Wit, Love and Truth, With spirits of Immortal Youth, And call the mixture Humour!”
The fairies vanished with their glittering train; But here's the Prince with all their gifts,--_Mark Twain_.
THE BALLAD OF THE SOLEMN a.s.s
Recited at the Century Club, New York: Twelfth Night. 1906
Come all ye good Centurions and wise men of the times, You've made a Poet Laureate, now you must hear his rhymes.
Extend your ears and I'll respond by shortening up my tale:-- Man cannot live by verse alone, he must have cakes and ale.
So while you wait for better things and muse on schnapps and salad, I'll try my Pegasus his wings and sing a little ballad: A legend of your ancestors, the Wise Men of the East, Who brought among their baggage train a quaint and curious beast.
Their horses were both swift and strong, and we should think it lucky If we could buy, by telephone, such horses from Kentucky; Their dromedaries paced along, magnificent and large, Their camels were as stately as if painted by La Farge.