Part 6 (2/2)

Some plaudits got, while others got the razz.

But when I saw Bee Palmer, s.h.i.+mmy queen, I shook--in sympathy--my troubled bean, And said, ”This is the utter razmataz.”

Then felt I like some patient with a pain When a new surgeon swims into his ken, Or like stout Brodie, when, with reeling brain, He jumped into the river. There and then I subwayed up and took the morning train To Norwalk, Naugatuck, and Darien.

To a Vers Librist

”Oh bard,” I said, ”your verse is free; The shackles that enc.u.mber me, The fetters that are my obsession, Are never gyves to your expression.

”The fear of falsities in rhyme, In metre, quant.i.ty, or time, Is never yours; you sing along Your unpremeditated song.”

”Correct,” the young vers librist said.

”Whatever pops into my head I write, and have but one small fetter: I start each line with a capital letter.

”But rhyme and metre--Ishkebibble!-- Are actually neglig_ib_le.

I go ahead, like all my school, Without a single silly rule.”

Of rhyme I am so reverential He made me feel inconsequential.

I shed some strongly saline tears For bards I loved in younger years.

”If Keats had fallen for your fluff,”

I said, ”he might have done good stuff.

If Burns had thrown his rhymes away, His songs might still be sung to-day.”

O bards of rhyme and metre free, My grat.i.tude goes out to ye For all your deathless lines--ahem!

Let's see, now.... What _is_ one of them?

How Do You Tackle Your Work?

How do you tackle your work each day?

Are you scared of the job you find?

Do you grapple the task that comes your way With a confident, easy mind?

Do you stand right up to the work ahead Or fearfully pause to view it?

Do you start to toil with a sense of dread?

Or feel that you're going to do it?

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