Part 8 (1/2)

”PARADISE LOST”

Sing, Heavenly Muse, in lines that flow More smoothly than the wandering Po, Of man's descending from the height Of Heaven itself, the blue, the bright, To h.e.l.l's unutterable throe.

Of sin original and the woe That fell upon us here below From man's pomonic primal bite-- Sing, Heavenly Muse!

Of summer sun, of winter snow, Of future days, of long ago, Of morning and ”the shades of night,”

Of woman, ”my ever new delight,”

Go to it, Muse, and put us joe-- Sing, Heavenly Muse!

”THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER”

The wedding guest sat on a stone, He could not choose but hear The mariner. They were there alone.

The wedding guest sat on a stone.

”I'll read you something of my own,”

Declared that mariner.

The wedding guest sat on a stone-- He could not choose but hear.

Regarding (1) the U. S. and (2) New York

Before I was a travelled bird, I scoffed, in my provincial way, At other lands; I deemed absurd All nations but these U. S. A.

And--although Middle-Western born-- Before I was a travelled guy, I laughed at, with unhidden scorn, All cities but New York, N. Y.

But now I've been about a bit-- How travel broadens! How it does!

And I have found out this, to wit: How right I was! How right I was!

Broadmindedness

How narrow his vision, how cribbed and confined!

How prejudiced all of his views!

How hard is the sh.e.l.l of his bigoted mind!

How difficult he to excuse!

His face should be slapped and his head should be banged; A person like that ought to die!

I want to be fair, but a man should be hanged Who's any less liberal than I.

The Jazzy Bard