Mis' Smith Her head's like the island folks tell on, Which nothing but monkeys can dwell on; She carves for each lover a slice; Like the wind, like the sea, Whose raging will hearken to no man; Like a mill, like a pill, Like a flail, like a whale, Like an ass, like a glass Whose image is constant to no man; Like a shower, like a flower, Like a fly, like a pie, Like a pea, like a flea, Like a thief, like-in brief, She's like nothing on earth-but a woman! MIS' SMITH ALL day she hurried to get through, And so the years went one by one, "All right, I'm comin' now," says she, I reckon." 119 Unknown. Albert Bigelow Paine. TRIOLET "I LOVE you, my lord!" That sarcastic maid! "I love you? My Lord!" Was all that she said. Paul T. Gilbert. BESSIE BROWN, M.D. 'TWAS April when she came to town; The birds had come; the bees were swarming. Her name, she said, was Doctor Brown; I saw at once that she was charming. She took a cottage tinted green, Where dewy roses loved to mingle; Her hair was like an amber wreath; The gallants viewed her feet and hands, And tore her piecemeal o'er the tea-things. A Sketch from the Life But Doctor Bessie went her way, Behind a dashing pair of ponies. I hoped that time might never wilt her. Her patients thronged the village street; And some pronounced her pills delightful. Like all the rest I, too, grew ill; And lo! the items still are swelling. The drugs I've drunk you'd weep to hear! Unless I wed the Doctor! 121 Samuel Minturn Peck. A SKETCH FROM THE LIFE ITs eyes are gray; Its hair is either brown Or black; And, strange to say, Its dresses button down The back! It wears a plume That loves to frisk around My ear. It crowds the room With cushions in a mound Old rugs and lamps In corners à la Turque It steals my stamps, And when I want to work It rides and skates But then it comes and fills With plaques and plates And keeps me paying bills It's firm; and if I should my many woes 'Twould only sniff And perk its little nose Some more. It's bright, though small; Its name, you may have guessed, Is "Wife." But, after all, It gives a wondrous zest To life! Arthur Guiterman. MINGUILLO'S KISS SINCE for kissing thee, Minguillo, Give me swiftly back, thou dear one, Give me back the kiss-that one, now; A Kiss in the Rain Let my mother scold no more; My fond kiss to give to me; For that one thou shalt have two: Give me that, and take another. Yes, then will they be contented, 123 Unknown. A KISS IN THE RAIN ONE stormy morn I chanced to meet Her locks were like the ripened wheat, I watched her as she tripped along And then-and then-I know 'twas wrong- With rain-drops shining on her cheek, Like dew-drops on a rose, The little lassie strove to speak My boldness to oppose; She strove in vain, and quivering Her fingers stole in mine; And then the birds began to sing, The sun began to shine. Oh, let the clouds grow dark above, 'Tis always summer when we love, |