Part 15 (1/2)

Costlier yet to be waking!

Costly for one who is wed!

Ruinous for one who is raking!

Tradespeople, ducking and draking, Charge you as much as they dare, Asking, without any faking, All that the traffic will bear.

Roof that goes over our head, Thirst so expensive for slaking, Paper, apparel, and lead-- Why are their prices at breaking?

Yet, though our purses be aching, Little the traffickers care; Getting, for chopping and steaking, All that the traffic will bear.

L'ENVOI

Take thou my verses, I pray, King, Letting my guerdon be fair.

Even a bard must be making All that the traffic will bear.

To W. Hohenzollern, on Discontinuing The Conning Tower

William, it was, I think, three years ago-- As I recall, one cool October morning-- (You have _The Tribune_ files; I think they'll show I gave you warning).

I said, in well-selected words and terse, In phrases balanced, yet replete with power, That I should cease to pen the prose and verse Known as The Tower.

That I should stop this Labyrinth of Light-- Though stopping make the planet leaden-hearted-- Unless you stopped the well-known _Schrecklichkeit_ Your nation started.

I printed it in type that you could read; My paragraphs were thewed, my rhymes were sinewed.

You paid, I judge from what ensued, no heed ...

The war continued.

And though my lines with fort.i.tude were fraught, Although my words were strong, and stripped of stuffing, You, William, thought--oh, yes, you did--you thought That I was bluffing.

You thought that I would fail to see it through!

You thought that, at the crux of things, I'd cower!

How little, how imperfectly you knew The Conning Tower!

You'll miss the column at the break of day.

I have no fear that I shall be forgotten.

You'll miss the daily privilege to say: ”That stuff is rotten!”

Or else--as sometimes has occurred--when I Have chanced upon a lucky line to blunder, You'll miss the precious privilege to cry: ”That bird's a wonder!”