Part 3

Italians, hold! Rienzi pleads again Against the Tyrants: hold if ye be men! Let not the foe despoil your fertile lands Or wrest historic treasures from your hands! Guard well your daughters! Shield your budding sons! Lest they be maimed or murdered by the Huns. Soldiers of Italy, would ye be slaves To Teuton hordes? Behold the sacred graves Of Garibaldi and your martyred dead Who made ye Freemen! Wouldst be slaves instead? The Alpine Passes that were yours are lost; Your Northern Rivers have been reached and crossed; Hold, Romans, hold! Halt further Teuton gains, And drive their looting legions from your plains! Hold! Men of Italy! Your wall of steel Can save fair Venice from the Despot's heel: Hold! Every man! for Honor, Country, Home-- And for the Glory of Eternal Rome!

MARY IS MERRY NO MORE

The Lamb that accompanied Mary Without aid of cudgel or rope, Was raised by her sire Elder Berry, And washed with dioxygen soap.

Its fleece, like the linen-spread table, Was snow-white: the lambkin was prized And kept from the sheep in the stable Who never were deodorized.

The lamb had a yearning for knowledge, And schoolward would follow the lass Till she was admitted to college, A graduate out of his class.

Then sheep-eyes were made by the teacher, And Mary was quick to decide 'Twixt him and the poor, woolly creature Who made lambentations and died.

She married her Teacher,--a lesson! Dyspeptic and old, he's a fright! Her thoughts fail of fitting expression, So she lams her own kids just for spite. She looks at her spouse with deep loathing, And sighs for her dead quadruped, And wishes the "wolf in sheep's clothing"--

Her husband, were dead in his stead. Alas, lass! You've forded the ferry; Your tombstone was graven for two; The lamb, chiseled there, stands for Mary, And the _Old English_ MARY for yew. The lamb reached the end of his tether When Mary ascended on High, But surely, in spite of the wether, They'll meet in the Sweet Bye-and-Bye.

I SHOT AN ARROW

I shot an arrow: how it sang! It was a poisoned arrow! And when it turned, a boomerang, It chilled me to the marrow.

I know not where the arrow struck, And care but little whether It came straight back or ran amuck Upon the near-by heather.

But _this_ I know; however fast The arrow homeward scurried, My getaway was unsurpassed-- For, Goodness, how I hurried!

FIXING THE BLAME

The almost-King of Verdun, still uncrowned, Wearied of _driving_, walked the ramparts 'round To see his father, Mr. William Kaiser, Who was to him an Oracle and wiser. "O Sire! Inform me! Tell your first-born son, Who caused the War, and why it was begun? Who slipped the leash, and what was the excuse For turning Europe's rabid War Dogs loose? Did you? Or was it Cousin George, or Nick Who stacked the cards and played the dirty trick? Or was it Joe, or Ferdinand, or Grey Who sawed the bridge and pulled the props away?"

"My Son, I swear by all the periscopes And Zeppelins to which I pin my hopes; By all the Ocean Sharks and Bats a-sky, By Gott-in-Himmel! As I hope to die, _I'm_ not to blame! I didn't use the spurs, Or try to overwork Geographers! I fought for Peace, and ne'er defiance hurled, Altho' the Fatherland _should_ rule the world. But here's the truth: a secret I'll disclose! A stranger 'twas who made us come to blows! It happened thus: a mighty Nimrod came From Afric wilds, where he had played the game Until his cudgel bore a hundred nicks, (A record this for all Prodigious Sticks) To Germany. No pussyfoot was his, But there was courage in his Nobel phiz; And in his stride were energy and grace Enough to make the goose-step commonplace. I took him to my Palace, as my guest, And poured libations from the cellar's _best_, (He was a _certified_ non-drinker--See? So just accord this proper secrecy!) And then arranged to hold a Grand Review Of all my Armies and Reservists too. 'De-lighted!' said my guest, and nothing more, As we reviewed my legions corps by corps; But this blunt comment signified his zeal, And so I mobilized my fleet at Kiel; And on my Royal Yacht, my guest and I Watched the maneuvres as my ships passed by. 'De-lighted, Bill!' the Hardy Hunter shouted-- 'With such a fleet I'd have the whole world routed; And with your armies I would soon disperse The Fighting Units of the Universe!' Such praise was pleasing to my ears, altho My Wasps and Devil-fish I didn't show: I deemed it best to _meld_ this 'hundred aces' When all my ships and men were in their places. Had he seen _these_, I knew he would advise The conquest of the Earth and Seas and Skies: But, Shades of Bismarck! _that_, you understand Might prove a strain upon the Fatherland. And so I kept the Peace, but thought about The many martial plans we figured out; And how the cost of my Frontier Defences Compared with his proposed campaign expenses. You see, Mein Heir, this man was full of guile And caused the War: this Bey of Oyster Isle. He hypnotized me: put it in my mind To be the Potentate of all Mankind! So blame me not! The fault I must disown, And put the guilt on Theodore alone! Whatever comes anon, I'm not whipped yet! And with it all, I have but one regret-- That _he_ was not impressed to lead my drive To Petersburg to take the Czar alive; And then, a Marshal, ordered to Paree To capture it and bring it back to me; Then take my fleet, the English Channel over And put King George to rout and bombard Dover; And then supplant the Sultan, take his Fez And lead my peerless Forces to Suez. While _you_ have failed, and Hindenburg and Mack, _He_ never fizzles when he makes attack. See what I've missed! for, _see what he has done_! And yet his vast campaign is just begun. He leads his Legions, Bull Moose, Calf and Cow To capture a Convention _even now_."

* * * * *

An orderly approached the Royal Pair Just at this stage and left despatches there. He stood at close attention, hand to head, While this absorbing cablegram was read-- "Outflanked and captured; resignation tendered; Mooses dehorned and all the herd surrendered! Am looking for another job already,-- Would take the German Presidency--Teddy."

* * * * *

The Kaiser turned, looked at the Prince and wept, While noxious gases o'er the bulwarks crept.

LOVE'S RECOMPENSE

"Do you really, truly love me, with a love that mocks at Fate?" Cried the rustic, buxom maiden to her lover at the gate; "Yes, my Pet! And when Dame Fortune smiles upon us we will wed; I will strew your path with roses: Bear me witness, Gods o'erhead!" Thus he spake unto his sweetheart, under Heaven's starry blue, And the angels, smiling on him, heard his vow to "e'er be true." Then he placed his arms around her--kissed her: they were in a trance! And two _soles_ toward Heav'n were lifted as the bulldog grabbed his pants.

ADAM'S ALE

Come, Comrades, gather 'round the festal board And quaff the sparkling Water from the gourd! _This_ is the drink that Adam's Tribe imbibed Before the Wines of Gath were diatribed. (Methinks some other brand was drunk by Cain The day that Abel ruthlessly was slain.) And won, against all other potions there, The First White Ribbon at the Gaza Fair. You'll never know, until you take a sip Its power to soothe, and cool the fevered lip. Had Noah _stuck to_ water he would shine As undisputed Master of the Brine. The Water-wagon that he launched, at first Steered Noah straight but didn't cure his thirst: So when he _spoke_ the Ararat Café He soon fell off,--his rudder washed away. But wallward turn the picture you're beholding And hang more cheerful paintings on the moulding! Behold a _watercolor_ of eclat! This, fair Rebecca had the skill to _draw_: She stands beside the well and plies the sweep, While sweat and blushes o'er her features creep. Such grace and poise, such strength and skill, Such sweeping gestures and unbending will Are indices of Abstinence complete; (We can't abstain from loving you, Petite!) Upon her head she rests the dripping urn And goes straight home: she doesn't _dare_ to turn! Don't stumble, Miss! Or suffer teasing boys To cause derangement of your equipoise! But keep your head and waver not at all Lest you be deluged by the waterfall! So daily to the pool Rebecca strayed And drank the water, when she didn't wade: And thus her framework waxed like iron; I trust 'Twas ne'er assailed or undermined by rust. So, fill the gourd and pass it to your friend! It's Safety First and safety to the end. No headaches lurk within, no tinge of sorrow, No dark forebodings or remorse to-morrow! And furthermore, it isn't hard to take: If you've not tried it, _do_, for Mercy's sake! Behold the Oaken Bucket, hanging high, By Bards and Singers lauded to the sky. It never touched, in all its useful days, A thing but water. Here fair Psyche plays Beside the spring that mirrors all her graces. (Would you object to _water in_ such cases?) Now mark the fate befalling Jack and Jill Because they slipped and let the water spill; And see poor Tantalus for water crying, Thus punished for his sins,--athirst and dying! And note this "Titian," called "The Drunkard's Fate," In which the crimson hues predominate. He holds the lamp-post in his close embrace And has a package from Pat Murphy's place To carry home. His eyes are red and dim, So close the bar and turn the hose on him! This drink was ever priceless, yet it's free; The Source and Fountain of Sobriety; And so we offer without bar or price Enough of THIS to put your thirst on ice. So drink to WATER, while the billows swell: The World wants Prohibition--and all's WELL!

RUSSIA

Canst Thou, in all this babel, build aright Freedom's Palladium? The long, black night That, ages thru, hath dimmed your yearning eyes And dulled your minds, still hovers o'er your skies. A rift there was, disclosing to your view The Dawn of Day, but then the darkness grew Yet more intense, as if the Sun rebelled At such a cheerless greeting and withheld Its Light. And now again Night reigns supreme, But just beyond the Day is all agleam.

BELGIUM

Sad-eyed and weary, Thou must suffer more, Until thy supermen have paid the score For outraged daughters, murdered sons and wives; For ravaged homesteads, and brave soldiers' lives. Be not dismayed! Altho your Cup of Woe Is full to overflowing from the blow; Tho Justice seems indifferent to your prayer, And ruin stalks about you everywhere. The day of reckoning is near at hand, When Justice will restore your pillaged Land, And Vengeance will unsheath its righteous blade And flay the Teutons till your score is paid.

OUR FRIENDS ACROSS THE STREET

(To S. and W. A.)

When we're tired of reading essays, Tho they be a mental treat; When we're bored by social callers, Be they ever so elite; When we crave some relaxation Or the Foursome's incomplete, We S. O. S. or telephone To our Friends across the Street.

When our larder needs renewing Or our ice succumbs to heat; When the signs of Drought are brewing 'Cause our "stock" is incomplete; And our chairs are insufficient When we have some guests to seat, Why, we just go out and borrow From our Friends across the Street.

When we're worried or in trouble, And our projects meet defeat; When our prospects seem quite hopeless,-- Life seems bitter that was sweet; When we lose our nerve and falter 'Cause the rough way wounds our feet, We can always find sweet comfort In our Friends across the Street.

When we end, at last, our journey And the saintly Peter greet, Or descend to Realms Infernal Where the Goats, rejected, bleat, We would never feel contented, Whether mixed with Chaff or Wheat, If we couldn't be together With our Friends across the Street.

EPITAPHS

I left this Vale of Tears to gain repose, And change, for Harp and Wings, my worldly clothes; There's no redress, so if I _fall_ from grace I'll be quite cool enough for _either_ place.

Wed Bled Fled Dead Nufsed

Go not the way I went, O Mortal Man! But follow out a more successful plan, Lest you, as I am now, remorseful be For imitating U. S. Currency.

For forty cents an hour I slaved At Delpont's Powder Mills; And all the money that I saved Scarce paid my funeral bills.

Erected to our father is this stone: He couldn't leave the whiskey flask alone; To Spirit World he vanished from our sight; We hope he's very snug, and _know_ he's tight.

Above the clouds I sojourn now, The twinkling stars between, Because I tried to figure how To cook with gasolene.

I'm _dead_ all right, but not quite _all right_ dead, For schemes of vengeance hurtle thru my head; My wife eloped, a cheating chicken she; Forsook her nest, and then flew back to me With all her brood: I love her as I useter But I'm a-laying for that other Rooster.

I followed Father with the rake The day he scythed the clover; So _green_, he cut _me_, by mistake And my heydays were over.

Here sleeps, at last, our little baby Yorick! _We_ couldn't make him _without paregoric_.

I'm not averse to being dead, But this I do despise,-- To have a tombstone at my head Inscribed with blooming lies: "A faithful spouse, a parent kind; Alas, too soon he went!"

But this is all they had in mind-- To get my last red cent.

Assembled here my Wife is, Helen Nation: 'Twas gasoline that caused the separation, Which shows how very short the mortal lease is,-- I think 'twas lucky to have saved the pieces!

Here let me rest without a sigh or tear, I've learned my lesson--not to interfere! If I could live my mortal life agin I'd be a pussyfoot and not butt in.

My Mother, famous for her pies Lies buried 'neath this shaft; I wonder if, in Paradise, She still pursues her craft? She'll be too much engrossed, 'twould seem, In picking on the lyre To give attention to a scheme To bake without a fire. But if perchance she had the dough And couldn't make it rise, I'm sure she'd know just where to go To look for _heat_ supplies.

He called me "Liar!" Like a flash My honor I defended, Until his razor cut a gash So deep, that I was ended. If I could live my life again I'd not invite an issue But say, when villified, Amen! And thus preserve my tissue.

THE CONQUEST OF THE SUN

The Morning Sun, with golden dart, Crept to Milady's bed; And as he drew the screens apart A halo crowned her head.

Such radiance he'd never viewed; Enraptured, he surveyed Her virgin charms: beatitude! He stooped and kissed the maid.

Entranced because her splendor seemed To dazzle as it shone, He conjured all his wiles and beamed Her burning cheeks upon.

And then she woke, Milady fair, Enchanted by his art, To find, 'midst fires a slumb'ring there, His dart had pierced her heart.

And so the Morning Sun can gain Milady when he tries, But Midnight Sons must lose, 'tis plain, Because they're late to rise.

OWED TO A ROACH

O, Thou, who thru the sink doth blithely go; (O, Little Roach, how could you _sink_ so low?) Who pipeth all your kin from kitchens near Wherever crumbs of comfort may appear; Who layeth siege, in mural cracks or trenches, Where grease spots lure or rampant be the stenches; Who hideth in the dough when bread is rising,-- I ask you to a Feast, of my devising,-- To eat these _powders_, 'round the plumbing placed, Until your glutted carcass be effaced. O, Little Roach, if you would selfish be And not "ring in" your whole fool family, We'd tolerate you: nay, a pet would make you If you'd not scamper all our pie and cake thru!

THE MOODS OF THE WINDS

O, Breezes of Spring! How they rollick and ring With delight as they sing Like birds on the wing.

O, Zephyrs of May! With your balm and bouquet; How you gladden the day Like Fairies at play.

O, Winds of the Fall! How they thrill and enthrall, How they hurtle and call With shrill caterwaul.

O, Winter's bleak Breath! How it freezes and saith To the ice-vested wraith, "Thou'rt shrouded in Death."

THE TOXIC TIPPET

'Tis said that Mary, she of Reader note, Was wrapped up in her lamb--her lambskin coat-- E'en after his demise, beatified. He served her well, and for his mistress dyed.

Then Mary died, and took angelic form, Because the lambskin (used to keep her warm) Gave her the anthrax: what a cruel blow To be thus snatched above from furbelow!

TWENTY-THIRD PSALM

My Shepherd careth for His flock: Beneath a cloudless sky In pastures green, by spring-cleft rock, In luxury I lie.

He brings contentment to my soul And leads me to the Light, By which I see the Heav'nly goal From dismal depths of Night.

Though Poverty attend my way And sorrow fills my heart, Thy Guidance will disaster stay, So good and pure Thou art!

Thou, in the presence of my foes, Bestoweth favors rare, And giveth pleasure and repose In answer to my prayer.

To such a Shepherd I will give My everlasting love, And glory in the Hope--to live With Him, at last, Above.

FRIENDSHIP

True Friends are rare: who counts them by the score Is blest indeed, for we have, seldom, more. If we possess just one real, _trusting_ friend Who shares our troubles, loyal to the end; Who, when we fall, will help us to our feet; Who finds with us contentment most complete; Whose pocket-book and heart are open thrown Whether we need affection or a loan, And makes no record of the favor done, But gives, with equal pleasure, either one-- That's Friendship _true_! If I had twenty such, With all their purses open to my touch, And each disposed to "stake" me and forget The circumstance and measure of the debt, I'd soon be on the road to ease and plenty, But wish I had _such_ friendships _more than twenty_.

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