Or ’twouldst be better still if time wouldst pass, Whilst laughin’ at the antics of the clown, As slow as run’st the sands within the glass Whilst I, ’neath sun that almost melts me down, Must mow the lawn. O Fate, why must, alas! Thy smile be so much shorter than thy frown?
SONNET WROTE ON THE FLY-LEAF OF MY GRAMMAR DURIN’ SCHOOL HOURS
O Education! Maybe thou art all Our teachers tell us, but just let me say That if my folks wouldst let me have my way, From early Spring till frost comes in the Fall I’dst be outdoors, you bet! a-playin’ ball Or otherwise enjoyin’ each fine day. It seem’st a shame for boys to have to stay Like culprits shut in by a prison wall!
I guess if you get rich folks wilt not care If you don’tst know your grammar to a T, For baby boys, you’llst find ’most everywhere, Art named for uncles who hast money, see? Though they hain’tst got no learnin’ they canst spare Nor never spell their ’taters with a p.
THOUGHTS THOUGHT ON HEARIN’ FOLKS FIND FAULT WITH THE WEATHER
I love cold winter weather with the snow A-driftin’ on the walks I hast to clear, And frost a-bitin’ nose and cheek and ear, With the thermometer “away below.” I also love the summer when it’s so Red-hot that clothes next to you all “adhere” And everybody’s frantic, pretty near, And sayin’ things that hot folks dost, you know?
I love both seasons, but I wish I could Enjoy them whilst they’re with us, for, you see, It’s winter when the summer seem’st so good, And summer when the winter pleases me. But, somehow, I have never understood Why either of them whilst it’s here’s “n. g.”
LINES WROTE AFTER SEEIN’ SHAKESPEARE’S HAMLET FROM AN UPPER GALLERY
O Shakespeare! Thou whom’st all the world dost think Hast written some good things, I, too, wouldst pay My best respects to thee; yet, wouldst I say That whilst I like thee yet I dost not shrink From tellin’ thee that thou art on the “blink” And very sadly out of date to-day. Still, if thou’lt follow my advice thou may Still count as one of us, and get more “chink.”
Your plays ain’t any good the way they stand: Thou ought’st to tone them up with something nice: Some coon-songs, fire-engines, blood-hounds and A swingin’ bridge and chunks of floatin’ ice Wouldst make your old plays draw to beat the band, And folks wouldst crowd your show at any price!