He looks in your eyes in a terrible way,
To find what you’ve “doped,” not because he’s O. K.
He’s glib on eugenics, and smattered in all
The games of cheap “con” on this old earthly ball.
Some day you may meet him, a real mental clown.
That cosmic creation, “The Man About Town.”
ELK CREEK
Purling and winding midst balsam and pine;
Hiding ’neath willow and spruce.