WILL L. GRAVES. Makio.
~A Modern Instance.~
Her little hand in his he took,
All hot and quivering it was;
And noted how her eyes did look
Bright as a lucent sapphire does.
Within her dainty little wrist
Her pulse throbbed quick, as if her heart
Beat love's glad summons to be kissed,
Heart's first reveille since life's start,
Her oval cheeks were flushed with rose;
Her red lips parted for such breath
As hot from tropic spice lands blows;
Enough 'twas to have warmed old Death!
He gazed at her; he spoke—and she
Stuck out at him a small tongue's tip:
The family doctor old was he,
And she—he said she had la grippe.
Red and Blue.
~The Echo from the 17th.~
Who builds de railroads and canals,
But furriners?
Who helps across de street de gals,
But furriners?
Who in de caucus has der say,
Who does de votin' 'lection day,
And who discovered U.S.A.,
But furriners?