WHAT WILL WE DO?

What will we do when the good days come—
When the prima donna's lips are dumb,
And the man who reads us his "little things"
Has lost his voice like the girl who sings;
When stilled is the breath of the cornet-man,
And the shrilling chords of the quartette clan;
When our neighbours' children have lost their drums—
Oh, what will we do when the good time comes?
Oh, what will we do in that good, blithe time,
When the tramp will work—oh, thing sublime!
And the scornful dame who stands on your feet
Will "Thank you, sir," for the proffered seat;
And the man you hire to work by the day,
Will allow you to do his work your way;
And the cook who trieth your appetite
Will steal no more than she thinks is right;
When the boy you hire will call you "Sir,"
Instead of "Say" and "Guverner";
When the funny man is humorsome—
How can we stand the millennium?
Robert J. Burdette.

LIFE IN LACONICS

Given a roof, and a taste for rations,
And you have the key to the "wealth of nations."
Given a boy, a tree, and a hatchet,
And virtue strives in vain to match it.
Given a pair, a snake, and an apple,
You make the whole world need a chapel.

Given "no cards," broad views, and a hovel,
You have a realistic novel.
Given symptoms and doctors with potion and pill,
And your heirs will ere long be contesting your will.
That good leads to evil there's no denying:
If it were not for truth there would be no lying.
"I'm nobody!" should have a hearse;
But then, "I'm somebody!" is worse.
"Folks say," et cetera! Well, they shouldn't,
And if they knew you well, they wouldn't.
When you coddle your life, all its vigor and grace
Shrink away with the whisper, "We're in the wrong place."
Mary Mapes Dodge.

ON KNOWING WHEN TO STOP

The woodchuck told it all about.
"I'm going to build a dwelling
Six stories high, up to the sky!"
He never tired of telling.
He dug the cellar smooth and well
But made no more advances;
That lovely hole so pleased his soul
And satisfied his fancies.
L. J. Bridgman.