THE PLAINT HUMAN
Season of snows, and season of flowers,
Seasons of loss and gain!—
Since grief and joy must alike be ours,
Why do we still complain?
Ever our failing, from sun to sun,
O my intolerent brother:—
We want just a little too little of one,
And much too much of the other.
BY ANY OTHER NAME.
First the teacher called the roll,
Clos't to the beginnin',
"Addeliney Bowersox!"
Set the school a-grinnin'.
Wintertime, and stingin'-cold
When the session took up—
Cold as we all looked at her,
Though she couldn't look up!
Total stranger to us, too—
Country-folks ain't allus
Nigh so shameful unpolite
As some people call us!—
But the honest facts is, then,
Addeliney Bower-
Sox's feelin's was so hurt
She cried half an hour!
My dest was acrost from her 'n:
Set and watched her tryin'
To p'tend she didn't keer,
And a kind o' dryin'
Up her tears with smiles—-tel I
Thought, "Well, 'Addeliney
Bowersox' is plain, but she's
Purty as a piney!"
It's be'n many of a year
Sence that most oncommon
Cur'ous name o' Bowersox
Struck me so abomin-
Nubble and outlandish-like!—
I changed it to Adde-
Liney Daubenspeck—and that
Nearly killed her Daddy!