Fables for the Frivolous (1898), the topsy-turvy interpretations of old nursery rhymes, Mother Goose for Grownups (1900) and the fantastic variations on the fairy tales in Grimm Tales Made Gay (1903)-all of them with a surprising (and punning) Moral attached. This extraordinary versifier died, before reaching the height of his power, at the age of thirty-one, in the summer of 1904. HOW JACK FOUND THAT BEANS MAY GO BACK ON A CHAP Without the slightest basis For hypochondriasis A widow had forebodings which a cloud around her flung, And with expression cynical For half the day a clinical Thermometer she held beneath her tongue. Whene'er she read the papers She suffered from the vapors, At every tale of malady or accident she'd groan; In every new and smart disease, From housemaid's knee to heart disease, She recognized the symptoms as her own! She had a yearning chronic To try each novel tonic, Elixir, panacea, lotion, opiate, and balm; And from a homeopathist Would change to an hydropathist, And back again, with stupefying calm! She was nervous, cataleptic, And anemic, and dyspeptic: Though not convinced of apoplexy, yet she had her fears. She dwelt with force fanatical Upon a twinge rheumatical, And said she had a buzzing in her ears! Now all of this bemoaning And this grumbling and this groaning The mind of Jack, her son and heir, unconscionably bored. His heart completely hardening, He gave his time to gardening, For raising beans was something he adored. Each hour in accents morbid This limp maternal bore bid Her callous son affectionate and lachrymose good-bys. She never granted Jack a day Without some long "Alackaday!" Accompanied by rolling of the eyes. But Jack, no panic showing, Just watched his beanstalk growing, And twined with tender fingers the tendrils up the pole. At all her words funereal He smiled a smile ethereal, Or sighed an absent-minded "Bless my soul!" That hollow-hearted creature Would never change a feature: No tear bedimmed his eye, however touching was her talk. She never fussed or flurried him, The only thing that worried him Was when no bean-pods grew upon the stalk! But then he wabbled loosely His head, and wept profusely, And, taking out his handkerchief to mop away his tears, Exclaimed: "It hasn't got any!" He found this blow to botany Was sadder than were all his mother's fears. The Moral is that gardeners pine It's rather Whittier than I!) THE SYCOPHANTIC FOX AND THE A raven sat upon a tree, And not a word he spoke, for His beak contained a piece of Brie, Or, maybe, it was Roquefort. We'll make it any kind you please- Beneath the tree's umbrageous limb "J'admire," said he, "ton beau plumage," Two things there are, no doubt you know, A rooster that is bound to crow, He tells the most unblushing lies. "Sweet fowl," he said, "I understand I hear you sing to beat the band Pray render with your liquid tongue This subtle speech was aimed to please He thought no bird in all the trees Could sing as well as he did. In flattery completely doused, He gave the" Jewel Song" from "Faust." But gravitation's law, of course, And elsewhere soon bestowed it. In fact, there is no need to tell I blush to add that when the bird He said one brief, emphatic word, The fox was greatly startled, but THE MORAL is: A fox is bound To be a shameless sinner. And also: When the cheese comes round You know it's after dinner. But (what is only known to few) HOW A CAT WAS ANNOYED AND A POET WAS BOOTED A poet had a cat. There is nothing odd in that— (I might make a little pun about the Mews!) But what is really more Remarkable, she wore A pair of pointed patent-leather shoes. |