Reprinted from the "Four-masted Catboat," by permission of the author and The Century Company. Copyright, 1899.
THE DIFFICULTY OF RIMING
ANONYMOUS
We parted by the gate in June,
That soft and balmy month,
Beneath the sweetly beaming moon,
And (wonth-hunth-sunth-bunth—I can't
find a rime to month).
Years were to pass ere we should meet.
A wide and yawning gulf
Divides me from my love so sweet,
While (ulf-sulf-dulf-mulf—stuck again;
I can't get any rime to gulf. I'm in a gulf myself).
Oh, how I dreaded in my soul
To part from my sweet nymph,
While years should their long seasons roll
Before (hymph-dymph-symph—I guess I'll
have to let it go at that).
Beneath my fortune's stern decree
My lonely spirits sunk,
For I a weary soul should be,
And a (hunk-dunk-runk-sk—that will
never do in the world).
She buried her dear lovely face
Within her azure scarf,
She knew I'd take the wretchedness,
As well as (parf-darf-harf-and-harf—
that won't answer either).
Oh, I had loved her many years.
I loved her for herself;
I loved her for her tender tears,
And also for her (welf-nelf-self-pelf—no,
no; not for her pelf).
I took between my hands her head,
How sweet her lips did pouch!
I kissed her lovingly and said—
(Bouch-mouch-louch-ouch—not a bit of it
did I say ouch!).