A DECADE
When you came you were like red wine and honey,
And the taste of you burnt my mouth with its sweetness.
Now you are like morning bread—
Smooth and pleasant,
I hardly taste you at all, for I know your savour,
But I am completely nourished.
—Amy Lowell, in The Chimæra.
When I wuz courtin' Annie, she wuz honey an' red wine,
She made me feel all jumpy, did that ol' sweetheart o' mine;
Wunst w'en I went to Crawfordsville, on one o' them there trips,
I kissed her—an' the burnin' taste wuz sizzlin' on my lips.
An' now I've married Annie, an' I see her all the time,
I do not feel the daily need o' bustin' into rhyme.
An' now the wine-y taste is gone, fer Annie's always there,
An' I take her fer granted now, the same ez sun an' air.
But though the honey taste wuz sweet, an' though the wine wuz strong,
Yet ef I lost the sun an' air, I couldn't git along.
If the Advertising Man Had Been Gilbert
Never mind that slippery wet street—
The tire with a thousand claws will hold you.
Stop as quickly as you will—
Those thousand claws grip the road like a vise.
Turn as sharply as you will—
Those thousand claws take a steel-prong grip on the road to prevent a side skid.
You're safe—safer than anything else will make you—
Safe as you would be on a perfectly dry street.
And those thousand claws are mileage insurance, too.
—From the Lancaster Tire and Rubber Company's
advertisement in the Satevepost.
Never mind it if you find it wet upon the street and slippery;
Never bother if the street is full of ooze;
Do not fret that you'll upset, that you will spoil your summer frippery,
You may turn about as sharply as you choose.
For those myriad claws will grip the road and keep the car from skidding,
And your steering gear will hold it fast and true;
Every atom of the car will be responsive to your bidding,
AND those thousand claws are mileage insurance, too—
Oh, indubitably,
Those thousand claws are mileage insurance, too.