Sea minnow this with pony's crest,
Just one of Amphitrite's toys,
With which her Nereids coax to rest
The little stormy Triton boys;
In truth, a tiny twisted thing
Which cast upon that golden shore
The dark-eyed boys to strangers bring
Where sang Parthenope of yore.
Device befitting sculptured page
Quaintly with whiffs of song entwined,
Waif from the ebbing tide of age,
A Hippocampus of the mind,
Which seeks from out the old and new,
A happy cento to compile,
Whose signs and words around may strew
The soothing of a quiet smile.
Now in the fish some hearts may claim
A symbol ever dear to us;
And some the pony pet, though lame,
A little mule of Pegasus.
Then haste, thou atom of a book,
To young and old with cheery call;
In town, or train, or pastoral nook,
Thy message has a word for all. |
