For whilst, O Eagle, thou dost dare to climb

The highest mountain peak and greet the sun,

It is the turkey that dost nearest rhyme

With all the lofty thrills that through us run;

He beats thee to a standstill every time,

For, stuffed and roasted—say! he takes the bun!


[SONNET WROTE WHILST THINKIN’ OF MY SISTER MAYMIE’S HOMELY BEAU]