ON DEDICATING A NEW TEAPOT
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Boiling water now is poured, Pouches filled with fresh tobacco, Round the hospitable board Fragrant steams Ceylon or Pekoe. Bread and butter is cut thin, Cream and sugar, yes, bring them on; Ginger cookies in their tin, And the dainty slice of lemon. Let the marmalade be brought, Buns of cinnamon adhesive; And, to catch the leaves, you ought To be sure to have the tea-sieve. But, before the cups be filled— Cups that cause no ebriation— Let a genial wish be willed Just by way of dedication. Here's your fortune, gentle pot: To our thirst you offer slakeage; Bright blue china, may I not Hope no maid will cause you breakage. Kindest ministrant to man, Long be jocund years before you, And no meaner fortune than Helen's gracious hand to pour you! |
THE UNFORGIVABLE SYNTAX
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A certain young man never knew Just when to say whom and when who; "The question of choosing," He said, "is confusing; I wonder if which wouldn't do?" Nothing is so illegitimate As a noun when his verbs do not fit him; it Makes him disturbed If not properly verbed— If he asks for the plural, why git him it! Lie and lay offer slips to the pen That have bothered most excellent men: You can say that you lay In bed—yesterday; If you do it to-day, you're a hen! A person we met at a play Was cruel to pronouns all day: She would frequently cry "Between you and I, If only us girls had our way—!" |
VISITING POETS
We were giving a young English poet a taste of Philadelphia, trying to show him one or two of the simple beauties that make life agreeable to us. Having just been photographed, he was in high good humor.