DEAR SIR,—I began writing lyrics for ragtime revues, because I wanted to see what would happen if I just took hold of the pen and let her rip.
From a calendar:—
"October 31. Wednesday.
August to October Game Certificates expire,
Mystical carpeted earth, with dead leaves of desire,
Disrobing earth dying beneath love's fire."
The rhymes are all right, but the scansion of the first line is susceptible of improvement.