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The Bashful Earthquake, & Other Fables and Verses

Chapter 17: TRUTH.
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About This Book

A compact collection of witty fables and light verses that personify animals, objects, and natural forces to produce playful moral and comic observations. The poems and short narratives range from brief epigrams to longer rhymed pieces, employing jaunty rhyme, absurd situations, and ironic twists to gently satirize human foibles and social pretensions. Illustrations accompany many pieces, reinforcing the whimsical tone and eccentric details while the overall mood alternates between sly humor, mild sentiment, and clever wordplay.

The Three Wishes.

nce to a man a goblin came

And said to him, “If you will name

Three wishes, whatsoe’er they be,

They shall be granted instantly.

Think of three things you deem the best,

Express your wish—‘we do the rest.’”

“O Goblin!” cried the man, “indeed

You’re just the kind of a friend I need.

Hunger and Want I’ve known thus far,

I fain would learn what Riches are.”

“Then,” cried the Goblin, “learn it well,

Riches are title deeds to Hell!

Now wish again.”

nce to a man a goblin came

And said to him, “If you will name

Three wishes, whatsoe’er they be,

They shall be granted instantly.

Think of three things you deem the best,

Express your wish—‘we do the rest.’”

“O Goblin!” cried the man, “indeed

You’re just the kind of a friend I need.

Hunger and Want I’ve known thus far,

I fain would learn what Riches are.”

“Then,” cried the Goblin, “learn it well,

Riches are title deeds to Hell!

Now wish again.”

“Alackaday!”

Exclaimed the man. “I’ve thrown away,

And all for naught, a chance immense;

I only wish I had some sense!”

The Goblin waved his hand—the Dunce

To his surprise was wise for once.

And being wise, he laughed, and said:

“I am a fool—would I were dead!”


“Granted!” the Goblin yell’d “it’s plain

You’ll never be so wise again.”


TRUTH.

Permit me, madame, to declare

That I never will compare

Eyes of yours to Starlight cold,

Or your locks to Sunlight’s gold,

Or your lips, I’d have you know,

To the crimson Jacqueminot.

Stuff like that’s all very fine

When you get so much a line;

Since I don’t, I scorn to tell

Flattering lies. I like too well

Sun and Stars and Jacqueminot

To flatter them, I’d have you know.