THE WORD MISSPELLED
Whene’er you miss
A field of bliss,
It is not half so bad
As to presume
Your words are known,
When you but thought you had.
When you’ve planned up
A good stand up,
And fall to the other end,
It brings aroun’
A funny frown
Which judgment cannot mend.
Your playmates’ laugh
Is only half
The ugliness you feel;
You’d kick yourself
Like the Ghib the Guelf
If that the pang would heal.
So boys, I say,
Study away
And ever strive your best,
So you’ll be glad
Instead of sad,
And keep your level with the rest.