You tell us in philosophy
That time does not exist,
That 'tis but a film of fancy,
A little mental mist.
And space—why, space is nothing
More than mere mode of thought,
A sort of mental telescope
Our feeble minds have wrought.
Well, if that's true, Respected Sirs,
I'll breakfast at my ease,
And think myself in chapel
Just as often as you please.
H. K. WEBSTER. Hamilton Literary Monthly.
~Her Answer.~
"Maud, take my heart!" cried Algernon.
(Maud goes to Barnard College.)
She said, "You know I'm wedded to
A noble search for knowledge.
"I cannot take your heart, Al, but—"
He saw her eyes with pleasure beam—
"I'm much obliged. You've given me
A subject for a daily theme."
C.H. Columbia Literary Monthly.
~"Give Me the Town."~
Give me the town; let others go
Where babbling streams of water flow,
Where soars the lark on daring wing
(I'd rather hear De Reszke sing),
And where sweet-scented breezes blow.