Hem and Haw 1887 Over three faces a sad smile flew, And they edged away from Kalamazoo. But Gotham's haughty soul was stirred Deftly hiding reproof in praise, She cries: 'Tis, indeed, a lovely vaze!" But brief her unworthy triumph when With the consciousness of two grandpapas, And glances round with an anxious thrill, But the Boston maid smiles courteouslee, "I did not catch your remark, because Dies erit pracgelida Sinistra quum Bostonia. James Jeffrey Roche [1847-1908] HEM AND HAW HEM and Haw were the sons of sin, Hem lay 'round and Haw looked on While God did all the work. Hem was a fogy, and Haw was a prig, Hem was the father of bigots and bores; And Haw was the father of all the tribe But God was an artist from the first, And knew what he was about; While over his shoulder sneered these two, And advised him to rub it out. They prophesied ruin ere man was made: "Such folly must surely fail!" And when he was done, "Do you think, my Lord, He's better without a tail?" And still in the honest working world, With posture and hint and smirk, These sons of the devil are standing by While Man does all the work. They balk endeavor and baffle reform, And over the quavering voice of Hem, Is the droning voice of Haw. Bliss Carman [1861 MINIVER CHEEVY MINIVER CHEEVY, child of scorn, Grew lean while he assailed the seasons; He wept that he was ever born, And he had reasons. Miniver loved the days of old When swords were bright and steeds were prancing; The vision of a warrior bold Would set him dancing. Miniver sighed for what was not, And dreamed, and rested from his labors; He dreamed of Thebes and Camelot, And Priam's neighbors. Then Ag'in Miniver mourned the ripe renown That made so many a name so fragrant; Miniver loved the Medici, Albeit he had never seen one; Miniver cursed the commonplace, Of iron clothing. 1889 Miniver scorned the gold he sought, Miniver Cheevy, born too late, Scratched his head and kept on thinking; Miniver coughed, and called it fate, And kept on drinking. Edwin Arlington Robinson [1869 THEN AG'IN JIM BOWKER, he said, ef he'd had a fair show, He'd filled the world full of the sound of his name, I dunno; Jest so it might been, But he had tarnal luck--everythin' went ag'in him, So he didn't get no chance to show off what was in him. Jim Bowker, he said, Ef he'd had a fair show, you couldn't tell where he'd come, An' the feats he'd a-done, an' the heights he'd a-clumbIt may have been so; I dunno; Jest so it might been, But we're all like Jim Bowker, thinks I, more or less- Ef it hadn' been for luck an' misfortune an' sich, I dunno; Jest so it might been, Then ag'in Sam Walter Foss [1858-1911] A CONSERVATIVE THE garden beds I wandered by A black and crimson butterfly, All doleful and forlorn. I thought that life could have no sting To infant butterflies, So I gazed on this unhappy thing Said I, "What can the matter be? And flowers in goodly store:"- Similar Cases Cried he, "My legs are thin and few Where once I had a swarm! Soft fuzzy fur-a joy to view Once kept my body warm, Before these flapping wing-things grew, To hamper and deform!" At that outrageous bug I shot Those wings are made to fly! 'I do not want to fly," said he, And he drooped his wings dejectedly, "I do not want to be a fly! O yesterday of unknown lack! I left my fool in red and black, The creature madly climbing back Into his chrysalis. Charlotte Perkins Stetson Gilman [1860 SIMILAR CASES THERE was once a little animal, No bigger than a fox, And on five toes he scampered Over Tertiary rocks. They called him Eohippus, . And they called him very small, And they thought him of no value— When they thought of him at all; 1891 |