Though I could keep this up all day,
This lyric, elegiac, song,
Meseems hath come the time to say
Farewell! Adieu! Good-by! So long!
The Ancient Lays
I cannot sing the old songs
I sang long years ago,
But I can always hear them
At any vodevil show.
Erring in Company
("If I have erred I err in company with Abraham
Lincoln."—THEODORE ROOSEVELT.)
If e'er my rhyming be at fault,
If e'er I chance to scribble dope,
If that my metre ever halt,
I err in company with Pope.
An that my grammar go awry,
An that my English be askew,
Sooth, I can prove an alibi—
The Bard of Avon did it, too.
If often toward the bottled grape
My errant fancy fondly turns,
Remember, jeering jackanape,
I err in company with Burns.
If now and then I sigh "Mine own!"
Unto another's wedded wife,
Remember I am not alone—
Hast ever read Lord Byron's Life?
If frequently I fret and fume,
And absolutely will not smile,
I err in company with Hume,
Old Socrates and T. Carlyle.