A GENTLE ECHO ON WOMAN

IN THE DORIC MANNER

Shepherd. Echo, I ween, will in the woods reply,
And quaintly answer questions: shall I try?
Echo. Try.
Shepherd. What must we do our passion to express?
Echo. Press.
Shepherd. How shall I please her, who ne'er loved before?
Echo. Before.
Shepherd. What most moves women when we them address?
Echo. A dress.
Shepherd. Say, what can keep her chaste whom I adore?
Echo. A door.
Shepherd. If music softens rocks, love tunes my lyre.
Echo. Liar.
Shepherd. Then teach me, Echo, how shall I come by her?
Echo. Buy her.
Shepherd. When bought, no question I shall be her dear?
Echo. Her deer.
Shepherd. But deer have horns: how must I keep her under?
Echo. Keep her under.
Shepherd. But what can glad me when she's laid on bier?
Echo. Beer.
Shepherd. What must I do so women will be kind?
Echo. Be kind.
Shepherd. What must I do when women will be cross?
Echo. Be cross.
Shepherd. Lord, what is she that can so turn and wind?
Echo. Wind.
Shepherd. If she be wind, what stills her when she blows?
Echo. Blows.
Shepherd. But if she bang again, still should I bang her?
Echo. Bang her.
Shepherd. Is there no way to moderate her anger?
Echo. Hang her.
Shepherd. Thanks, gentle Echo! right thy answers tell
What woman is and how to guard her well.
Echo. Guard her well.
Dean Swift.

LAY OF ANCIENT ROME

Oh, the Roman was a rogue,
He erat was, you bettum;
He ran his automobilus
And smoked his cigarettum.
He wore a diamond studibus
And elegant cravattum,
A maxima cum laude shirt
And such a stylish hattum!
He loved the luscious hic-haec-hoc,
And bet on games and equi;
At times he won at others though,
He got it in the nequi;
He winked, (quo usque tandem?) at
Puellas on the Forum,
And sometimes, too, he even made
Those goo-goo oculorum!
He frequently was seen
At combats gladiatorial
And ate enough to feed
Ten boarders at Memorial;
He often went on sprees
And said, on starting homus,
"Hic labour—opus est,
Oh, where's my hic—hic—domus?"
Although he lived in Rome,—
Of all the arts the middle—
He was, (excuse the phrase,)
A horrid individ'l;
Ah, what a different thing
Was the homo (dative, hominy)
Of far away B. C.
From us of Anno Domini.
Thomas R. Ybarra.

A NEW SONG

OF NEW SIMILES