A LIFE’S SPECULATIONS.
When a wee child I used to wonder why
The bright stars fell not from the bending sky,
For I no sky line saw to hold them by,
When told of angels up beyond the blue,
I used to wonder if the winged crew
Flew races, when they’d nothing else to do.
A little later, as around I played,
And saw that young girls were so frail and ’fraid,
I wondered why on earth a maid was made.
No mortal use the timid things could be
That a philosopher of six could see—
So great a mystery was the sex to me.
A few years more, when youth’s expansive flame
Put my philosophy of six to shame,
A greater mystery the sex became.
Next into college I for knowledge went
And wondered at the time so vainly spent—
Four years for learning things not worth a cent!
A year of lounging in that sacred place,
Then round the world to see the human race
I wandered, and my wonder grew apace.
More than seven marvels had the world for me,
And this the greatest: why the poor should be
Slaves of the rich men, when they might be free.
But having had sufficient time to cool
My fancy in this tough world’s roughest school
I give up life’s conundrums—as a rule.
Yet such is habit—howsoe’er we try—
The other day I fell to wondering why
In Yankee taverns they serve cheese with pie.
Henry W. Austin.