Howard Futhey Brinton

“ We will never grow old, little girl, at all;
We’ll hop, skip and jump and play with a ball:
We’ll frolic, and laugh and climb the trees tall,
Just you, little girl, and I.
Oh, come, little girl and play with me,
For I would be your little boy.
We’ll make believe cats and doggies and things
Are elephants, lions and eagles with wings ”

“ And she just sort of has me “way up in the air!”
There’s a touch of the gyp in her arch little eye,
And the savor of health as she passes you by.
Her hair is jet black; her look rings real true,
And the tinge of her heart I am sure is true blue. ”

“ By profession a drummer, this hummer, this stunner;
The mesdames and misses cast looks
Of wild admiration and praise, adulation,
As he glibly and smoothly talked books.
When he’d quote a good rhyme or distich, they opine;
Their souls all mesmerized, torn,
“That say what you will, he cast doubts willy-nilly,
Is sure to the real manner born.” ”

“ A dreamer, daredevil, and care free, they say,
Who lived in the far remote past,—
An unpractical man and careless forsooth;
Inclined as a youth to be fast.
He’d shot up the town and sowed some wild oats,
And once on a time rolled the dice,
But heart like an ox and muscled like steel;
A dreamer? Yes, without price. ”

“ He twists just like a serpent; he’s cunning as a fox;
He runs as from a creditor; he’s mighty hard to box.
He’s slippery as an oyster; he’s fleeter than a deer;
He dodges like a debtor; he jumps now there, now here.
I’ve seen DeSaulles cavorting from this goal unto that;
To “Phil” King I’ve paid homage; to Daly doffed my hat.
“Brown’s” Sprackling was a wonder; Carl Williams was a peach;
To Poe, finesse in foot-ball was very hard to teach.
Out West there was a wonder named Walter Eckersall;
Old Bray, the Easton wonder, was a terror with the ball. ”

“ I’ve followed athletes’ foibles since Walter Camp began
To pick foot-ball immortals for “The All-American,”
But close as I’ve observed them at home, abroad, afar,
I’m sure that “Texas” Chenoweth is easily the star
Of all elusive “quarters” who ever tried to squirm
On foot-ball field deceptive; on footing wet or firm. ”

“ Its light and cheer are just the best boost
For the one who’s in the dumps.
Life’s edges rough with a deft, tactful touch,
It smooths for the man who’s down,
And the one who’s up never tries the snide trick
Of a patronizing frown. ”

“ Most broke his heart, his friends and all.
Coolly we fed our grudge.
You say it’s rotten? Sure, lad, I know,
Yes, to the very core.
Built on the weakness of ‘So and So.’
‘Framing,’ ‘getting’ and more
Words that a man hates dyed in sin,
Lying as I do here;
‘Dictographs,’ ‘trumping’ and ‘listening in,’
‘Crafty,’ ‘foxy,’ ‘the queer,’
‘Blackmailing,’ ‘crossing,’ ’tis only such,
No other words I’ve known.
Good things in life I ain’t seen much;
What I have reaped I’ve sown.
Laughed at the dreamers, the fighters clean,
Men with no axe to grind ”

“ Or railed against men’s vices with Puritanic rant.
Ned buttonholed old Bowser, a wily, canny runt,
Who’d beat deserving clients by doing bankrupt’s stunt.
Old Bowser told his sister, the village gossip kind
Quite “confidential-like” spake to her “who speak my mind.”
Miss Bowser told the Hearts’ Club of wondrous pedigree,
Who all exclaimed “how dreadful,” at poor Tom’s plight you see.
The Club then told their “hubbies,” all men of great renown,
Of more or less veracity, who quickly told the “town.” ”