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Page 17
Said B., "I will give you my bond
I mean them uncommonly well,
Believe me, my excellent Pond,
And credit me, worthy Morell.
"It's quite indisputable, for
I'll prove it with singular ease,
You shall have it in 'Barbara' or
'Celarent'--whichever you please.
"You see, when an anchorite bows
To the yoke of intentional sin--
If the state of the country allows,
Homogeny always steps in.
"It's a highly �sthetical bond,
As any mere ploughboy can tell"--
"Of course," replied puzzled old Pond.
"I see," said old Tommy Morell.
"Very good then," continued the lord,
"When its fooled to the top of its bent,
With a sweep of a Damocles sword
The web of intention is rent.
"That's patent to all of us here,
As any mere schoolboy can tell."
Pond answered, "Of course it's quite clear;"
And so did that humbug Morell.
"It's tone esoteric in force--
I trust that I make myself clear?"--
Morell only answered "Of course,"--
While Pond slowly muttered, "Hear, hear."
"Volition--celestial prize,
Pellucid as porphyry cell--
Is based on a principle wise."
"Quite so," exclaimed Pond and Morell.
"From what I have said, you will see
That I couldn't wed either--in fine,
By nature's unchanging decree
_Your_ daughters could never be _mine_.
"Go home to your pigs and your ricks,
My hands of the matter I've rinsed."
So they take up their hats and their sticks,
And _exeunt ambo_, convinced.
[Illustration]
ONLY A DANCING GIRL.
Only a dancing girl,
With an unromantic style,
With borrowed color and curl,
With fixed mechanical smile,
With many a hackneyed wile,
With ungrammatical lips,
And corns that mar her trips!
Hung from the "flies" in air,
She acts a palpable lie,
She's as little a fairy there
As unpoetical I!
I hear you asking, Why--
Why in the world I sing
This tawdry, tinselled thing?
No airy fairy she,
As she hangs in arsenic green,
From a highly impossible tree,
In a highly impossible scene
(Herself not over clean).
For fays don't suffer, I'm told,
From bunions, coughs, or cold.
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