Cupid’s Fault.
Once Cupid, he
Went on a spree
And made a peck of trouble,
“Ah ha!” cried he,
“Two hearts I see!”
Alack, the rogue saw double.
There was but one;
What has he done?
How could he be so stupid?
Into one heart
Two arrows dart—
O Cupid, Cupid, Cupid!
In truth ’t is sweet
When “two hearts beat
As one”—but what to do
When in one heart
Two arrows smart
And one heart beats as two?
ALL ABOARD!
Scene: a railway station.
ust two minutes more!
O Tempus, stand still,
Stand still, I implore,
One moment, until
I have time to reflect
On what I would say.
ust two minutes more!
O Tempus, stand still,
Stand still, I implore,
One moment, until
I have time to reflect
On what I would say.
Give me time to collect
My senses, I pray,
Until I have said
What my courage was mounting
To say, when instead
I was stupidly counting
The moments that fled!
O Tempus! you’re flying!
A plague on this parting,
This sighing, goodbying,
This smiling and smarting;
A plague too upon
This—Heavens! it’s starting!
Good bye!—
There, she’s gone!
KILLING TIME.
The air was full of shouts and cries,
Of shrill “Ha-ha’s,” and “Ho’s,” and “Hi’s,”
And every kind of whistle,
And the sky was dark with flying things—
Golf-sticks, balls, engagement-rings,
Novels, rackets, and billiard-cues,
Cameras, fishing-rods, and shoes,
And every sort of missile.
The ground was black with a seething mass
Of people of every kind and class—
Matrons, men, and misses,
Ladies and gentlemen, old and new,
Lads and lasses, and children too,
Elderly men with elderly wives—
Hustling and bustling for their lives.
“I wonder what all this is?”
Said I: “I fear that it may be
Another case for the S. P. C.
’T will bear investigation.”
I dropped my book and joined the race,
And struggling into the foremost place,
Behold, the object of the chase
Was an aged man with wrinkled face!
I was filled with indignation.
His frame was bent and his knees aknock,
His head was bald but for one lock,
And I cried with anger thrilling,
“This thing must stop; ’t is a disgrace
An aged gentleman to chase.”
Then everybody laughed in my face.
“This,” they cried, “is a different case;
It’s only ‘Time’ we’re killing.”
Then it was I observed two things
That grew from his shoulders—two big wings!
And I joined in the people’s laughter.
Tho’ killing is often out of place,
A circumstance may alter a case.
So I took my pad and pencil-case,
And for want of a missile, in its place
I tossed these verses after.