Arthur Macy

I sit before the firelight's glow With all the world in apogee, And con good Master Florio

[PARIS, 1896] Oh, damsel fair at the Porte Maillot, With the soft blue eyes that haunt me so,

Poet, my master, come, tell me true, And how are your verses made? Ah! that is the easiest thing to do: -

This is a valentine for you. Mother made it. She's real smart, I told her that I loved you true

All on a golden summer day, As through the leaves a single ray Of yellow sunshine finds its way

At Marliave's when eventide Finds rare companions at my side, The laughter of each merry guest

At twilight time when tolls the chime, And saddest notes are falling, A lonely bird with plaintive word

[TO O. R.] Out from the Land of the Future, into the Land of the Past A comrade sails to the East, the sport of the wave and the blast.

Of sweethearts I have had a score, And time may bring as many more; Tho' I remember all the rest,

I first saw Phebe when the show'rs Had just made brighter all the flow'rs; Yet she was fair

Dainty little Love came tripping Down the hill, Smiling as he thought of sipping

Of all the joys on earth that be There is no sweeter one to me Than sitting with a merry lass

I fill my goblet to the brim And clink the glasses rim to rim. Across the board I waft a kiss

Give me but a bit to eat, And an hour or two, Just a salad and a sweet,

Time and I have fallen out; We, who were such steadfast friends. So slowly has it come about

How nice 'twould be if knowledge grew On bushes, as the berries do! Then we could plant our spelling seed,

I send, O sweetest friend, A kiss;

[To E. C.] Oh, drop your eyelids down, my lady; Oh, drop your eyelids down.

Sweet Phyllis went a-rambling here and there, Here and there. Her eyes were blue and golden was her hair.

I. - SHE I fain would write on pleasant themes; So let me prate

[W. L. C.] Sit closer, friends, around the board! Death grants us yet a little time.

[TRIO] Oh, love hits all humanity, humanity, my dear; But after all it's vanity, a vanity, I fear;

Mrs. Mulligatawny said, "I'm sure it's going to rain." Mr. Mulligatawny said, "To me it's very plain." William Mulligatawny said, "It must rain, anyhow."

I wrote the truest, tend'rest song The world had ever heard; And clear, melodious, and strong,

When faltering fingers bid me cease to write, And, laying down the pen, I seek the Night, May those, to whom the Daylight still is sweet,

[To M.] With brilliant friends surrounding me, So cosy at the Club I'm sitting;

Fair city by the famed Batrachian Pool, Wise in the teachings of the Concord School; Home of the Eurus, paradise of cranks,

Saint Botolph flourished in the olden time, In the days when the saints were in their prime. Oh, his feet were bare and bruised and cold,

Gently fall the shadows gray, Daylight softly veiling; Now to Dreamland we'll away,

Silly Susan Scuppernong Cried so hard and cried so long, People asked her what was wrong.

I've spent all my money in chasing For books that are costly and rare; I've made myself bankrupt in tracing

Whoso his book of life doth con From title-leaf to colophon May read, if he but wrongly look,

A Little Cat played on a silver flute, And a Big Cat sat and listened; The Little Cat's strains gave the Big Cat pains,

Crime flourishes throughout the land, And bids defiance to the law, And wicked deeds on every hand

Oh, why do men their glasses clink When good old honest wine they drink? Wine is so excellent a thing

Here comes The Flag! Hail it! Who dares to drag

The Gurgling Imps of Mummery Mum Lived in the Land of the Crimson Plum, And a language very strange had they,

My hatband goes around my hat, And while there's nothing strange in that, It seems just like a lazy man

'Twas a tender little honeysuckle vine That smiled and danced in the warm sunshine, And spied a maid as fair as all maids be,

Between the two perplexed I go, A shuttlecock, tossed to and fro. I gaze on one, and know that she

I'm a tough old salt, and it's never I care A penny which way the wind is, Or whether I sight Cape Finisterre,

A little Maid sat in a Jonquil Tree, Singing alone, In a low love-tone,

The Moper mopeth all the day; He mopeth eke at night; And never is the Moper gay,

You know, Don't you, Joe, Those merry evenings long ago?

Two halves of an oyster shell, each a shallow cup; Here once lived an oyster before they ate him up. Oyster shells are smooth inside; outside very rough;

A White Rose said, "How fair am I. Behold a flower that cannot die!" A lover brushed the dew aside,

A Rollicking Mastodon lived in Spain, In the trunk of a Tranquil Tree. His face was plain, but his jocular vein

I heard an old, familiar air Strummed idly by a careless hand, Yet in the melody were rare,

"Now what is that, my daughter dear, upon thy cheek so fair?" "'Tis but a kiss, my mother dear - kind fortune sent it there. It was a courteous stranger-man that gave it unto me,

There once was a man who asked for pie, In a piping voice up high, up high; And when he asked for a salmon roe,

I'm a gentle, meek, and patient human worm; Unattractive, Rather active,

The thistle-down floats on the air, the air, Whenever the soft wind blows, And the wind can tell just where, just where

Thou art to me As are soft breezes to a summer sea; As stars unto the night;

Sweet visions came to me in sleep, Ah! wondrous fair to see; And in my mind I strove to keep

We keep in step as years roll by; You march behind and I before: - The path is new to you; but I

My dear old Uncle Jogalong Was very slow, was very slow, And said he thought that folks were wrong

Lyke some choise booke thou arte toe mee, Bound all so daintilie; And 'neath the covers faire

If I were but a syndicate, And love were merchandise, I'd buy it at the market rate,

Were I a murm'ring ocean shell Pressed close against your ear, My constant whisperings would tell

Take all the love that e'er was told Since first the world began, Increase it twenty thousand-fold

(After Henri Murger) Though I love many maidens fair As fondly as a heart may dare,

I send you two kisses Wrapped up in a rhyme; From Love's warm abysses

Were all the world like you, my dear, Were all the world like you, Oh, there'd be darts in all our hearts

The rain came down on Boston Town, And the people said, "Oh, dear! It's early yet for our annual wet, -