“Those grave and reverend sages, And maids of hosiery blue. Then solve me the conundrum, dear, That I have put to you.”
The maid replied with gravity,— “The Thingness of the Here Is that which lies between the past And future time, my dear.”
“Indeed,” the maid continued, with A calm, unruffled brow, “The Thingness of the Here is just The Thisness of the Now.”
The lover smiled a loving smile, And then he fondly placed A manly and protecting arm Around the maiden’s waist;
And on her rosebud lips impressed A warm and loving kiss, And said, “That’s what I call, my dear, The Nowness of the This.” Geo. Runde Jackson.
THE FLAG.
AN INCIDENT OF STRAIN’S EXPEDITION.
I never have got the bearings quite, Though I’ve followed the course for many a year, If he was crazy, clean outright, Or only what you might say was “queer.”