John Kendrick Bangs

“ A railway bond is picturesque, and the supply is great,
But strangely like a novel that upon occasion drags,
Of which the critics of the time in hackneyed phrases state,
‘The work has certain value, but the int’rest often flags!’
“The same is true of railway shares, ’tis safer to invest
In ploughshares, so it seems to me, in this unhappy time.
Some think great wealth a blessing, but it cannot stand the test;
He’s happier by far than I who’s but a single dime. ”

“ All free from care, from sorrow, and from strife.
MAY 30, 1893
It seemed to be but chance, yet who shall say
That ’twas not part of Nature’s own sweet way,
That on the field where once the cannon’s breath
Lay many a hero cold and stark in death,
Some little children, in the after-years,
Had come to play among the grassy spears,
And, all unheeding, when their romp was done,
Had left a wreath of wild flowers over one
Who fought to save his country, and whose lot
It was to die unknown and rest forgot?
THE CURSE OF WEALTH
“What shall I put my dollars in?” ”

“ I read, withdrew the curse—and tore the epic up.
THE EDITION DE LOOKS
How very close to truth these bookish men
Can be when in their catalogues they pen
The words descriptive of the wares they hold
To tempt the book-man with his purse of gold!
For instance, they have Dryden—splendid set—
Which some poor wight would part with wealth to get.
’Tis richly bound, its edges gilded—but—
Hard fate—as Dryden well deserves—uncut!
For who these days would think to buy the screed
Of dull old dusty Dryden just to read? ”

“ But tomes that travel on their “looks” indeed
Are only good for those who do not read;
And, like most people clad in garments grand,
Seem rather heavy for the average hand.
WISE AND OTHERWISE
NAPOLINI’S ERROR
Pietro Napolini di Vendetta Pasquarelle
Deserted balmy Italy, the land that loved him well,
And sailed for soft America, of wealth the very fount,
To earn sufficient dollars there to make himself a count.
Alas for poor Pietro! he arrived in winter-time,
And marvelled at the poet who observed in tripping rhyme
How this New World was genial, and a sunny sort of clime. ”

“ I like them just that way,
And truly, maiden half so sweet
You’d not find every day.
And yet, alas! she’s not my choice,
This creature of my rhyme—
Because her soft and rich-toned voice
Is going all the time. ”

“ A glass, Earth’s mysteries to unfold,
And show me where these things be.
MEMORIES
Yon maiden once a jester did adore,
Who early died and in the church-yard sleeps.
Once in a while she reads his best jokes o’er
And sits her down and madly, sorely weeps.
A SAD STATE
I know a man in Real Estate,
Whose pride of self’s sublime.
He’d like to be a poet great
But “can’t afford the time.”
AD ASTRA PER OTIUM
As I read over old John Dryden’s verse,
The rhymes of men like William Blake, and Gay,
The stuff that helped fill Edmund Waller’s purse,
And that which placed on Marvell’s brow the bay ”

“ TO A WITHERED ROSE
Thy span of life was all too short—
A week or two at best—
From budding-time, through blossoming,
To withering and rest.
Yet compensation hast thou—aye!—
For all thy little woes;
For was it not thy happy lot
To live and die a rose? ”

“ Who like to dally on the streets and play the game of craps?
“Is it that you enjoy the work of carrying a bag
While others speed the festive ball o’er valley, hill, and crag?
And do your spirits never seem to falter or to flag?
“I’ve watched you many a day, my lad, and puzzled o’er the fact
That you are so attentive to the game; your every act
Doth indicate perfection—there’s been nothing you have lacked. ”

“ He is not driven by his woe quite to the verge of drink
By wondering if his balance in the bank remains there yet.
“He does not pick the paper up in terror every night
To see if V.B.G. is up, or P.D.Q. is down;
It does not fill his anxious soul with nerve-destroying fright
To hear the Wall Street rumors that are flying ’bout the town.
“Ah, better had I ta’en that cash that I have skimped to save,
And spent it on my living and my pleasures day by day!
I would not now be goaded nigh unto my waiting grave,
By wondering how the deuce to keep those dollars mine for aye. ”

“ Should you want a book of poems that will bring you into fame,
Let me send a sample packet that will guarantee the same,
Holding “Seeds of Thought from Byron, Herrick, Chaucer, Tennyson.”
Plant ’em deep, and keep ’em watered, and you’ll find the deed is done.
I’ve a hundred comic packets that would make a Twain of Job;
I have “Seeds of Tales Narcotic; Tales of Surgeons and the Probe.”
I’ve a most superb assortment, on the very cheapest terms,
Done up carefully in tin-foil, of my A 1 “Trilby Germs.” ”

“ And for the cares of golf they’ve dropped their every other care.
“And so it is that we poor lads are forced to leave our home,
And join the ranks of caddy boys who o’er the fields do roam
In search of little golf-balls in the sunlight and the gloam ”

“ For I don’t want ’em any more.
The truth will out; it can’t be hid;
The doughty deed that Dewey did,
In that far distant Spanish sea,
Is really good enough for me.
The grammar’s bad, but, O my son,
I wish I’d did what Dewey done!
MESSAGE FROM MAHATMAS Onset Bay, Massachusetts, May 24, 18—.—Theosophists and others at Onset Bay Camp Grounds have been greatly excited of late by a message which has been received from the Mahatmas, Koot Hoomi, and his partner, who are summering in the desert of Gobi. The message is of considerable length, and contains much that is purely personal.—Daily Newspaper. ”

“ Was followed as implicitly as one obeys the law.
“’Twill open,” he observed to me, “with quatrains on the half.
They go down easy; then for soup”—it really made me laugh—
“The poems of old Johnny Gay”—his words were rather rough—
“They’ll do quite well, for, after all, soup’s thin and sloppy stuff. ”

“ And to my heart there came a twinge, for in that little lad
I recognized my eldest son—I was that wicked dad!
And now together we are out on links at home and far.
He and his three small brothers with their shamed, repentant pa,
A-looking here and looking there to find their dear mamma.
GARRULOUS WISDOM
I know a wondrous man—my neighbor he ”