ARMS AND THE COLYUM.
I sing of arms and heroes, not because
I’m thrilled by what these heroes do or die for:
The Colyum’s readers think they make its laws,
And I make out to give them what they cry for.
And since they cry for stuff about the war,
Since war at this safe distance not to them’s hell,
I have to write of things that I abhor,
And far, strange battlegrounds like Ypres and Przemysl.
War is an almost perfect rime for bore;
And, ’spite my readers (who have cursed and blessed me),
Some day I’ll throw the war junk on the floor,
And write of things that really interest me:
Of books in running brooks, and wilding wings,
Of music, stardust, children, casements giving
On seas unvext by wars, and other things
That help to make our brief life worth the living.
I sing of arms and heroes, just because
All else is shadowed by that topic fearful;
But I’ve a mind to chuck it [Loud applause],
And tune my dollar harp to themes more cheerful.
[p 80]
]Listen, Laura, Mary, Jessica, Dorothy, and other sweet singers! Gadder Roy, who is toiling over the pitcher-and-bowl circuit, wishes that some poet would do a lyric on that salvation of the traveler, Ham and Eggs. He doubts that it can be done by anybody who has not, time out of mind, scanned a greasy menu in a greasier hashery, and finally made it h. and e.