A LYTLE JAPE OF TUSHERIE

By A. Tusher

The pleasant river gushes Among the meadows green; At home the author tushes; For him it flows unseen. The Birds among the Bushes May wanton on the spray; But vain for him who tushes The brightness of the day! The frog among the rushes Sits singing in the blue. By ’r la’kin! but these tushes Are wearisome to do! The task entirely crushes The spirit of the bard: God pity him who tushes— His task is very hard. The filthy gutter slushes, The clouds are full of rain, But doomed is he who tushes To tush and tush again. At morn with his hair-brushes, Still “tush” he says and weeps; At night again he tushes, And tushes till he sleeps. And when at length he pushes Beyond the river dark— ’Las, to the man who tushes, “Tush” shall be God’s remark! Hyères, May 1883.
VIII

TO VIRGIL AND DORA WILLIAMS

Here, from the forelands of the tideless sea, Behold and take my offering unadorned. In the Pacific air it sprang; it grew Among the silence of the Alpine air; In Scottish heather blossomed; and at last By that unshapen sapphire, in whose face Spain, Italy, France, Algiers, and Tunis view Their introverted mountains, came to fruit. Back now, my Booklet! on the diving ship, And posting on the rails, to home return,— Home, and the friends whose honouring name you bear. Hyères, 1883.
IX

BURLESQUE SONNET

TO ÆNEAS WILLIAM MACKINTOSH
Thee, Mackintosh, artificer of light, Thee, the lone smoker hails! the student, thee; Thee, oft upon the ungovernable sea, The seaman, conscious of approaching night; Thou, with industrious fingers, hast outright Mastered that art, of other arts the key, That bids thick night before the morning flee, And lingering day retains for mortal sight. O Promethean workman, thee I hail, Thee hallowed, thee unparalleled, thee bold To affront the reign of sleep and darkness old, Thee William, thee Æneas, thee I sing; Thee by the glimmering taper clear and pale, Of light, and light’s purveyance, hail, the king.