In handcuffs--from our pitying view.
"Farewell!" he murmurs, then exits
R.U.
"Farewell" is much too sighful for
An age that has not time to sigh.
We say, "I'll see you later," or
"Good-by!"
When, warned by chanticleer, you go
From her to whom you owe devoir,
"Say not 'good-by,'" she laughs, "but
'Au Revoir!'"
Thus from the garden are you sped;
And Juliet were the first to tell
You, you were silly if you said
"Farewell!"
"Farewell," meant long ago, before
It crept, tear-spattered, into song,
"Safe voyage!" "Pleasant journey!" or
"So long!"
But gone its cheery, old-time ring;
The poets made it rhyme with knell--
Joined it became a dismal thing--
"Farewell!"
"Farewell!" into the lover's soul
You see Fate plunge the fatal iron.
All poets use it. It's the whole
Of Byron.
"I only feel--farewell!" said he;
And always fearful was the telling--
Lord Byron was eternally
Farewelling.
"Farewell!" A dismal word, 'tis true
(And why not tell the truth about it!);
But what on earth would poets do
Without it?
MY RUTHERS
BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY
[Writ durin' State Fair at Indanoplis, whilse visitin' a Soninlaw then
residin' thare, who has sence got back to the country whare he says a
man that's raised thare ot to a-stayed in the first place.]
I tell you what I'd ruther do--
Ef I only had my ruthers,--
I'd ruther work when I wanted to
Than be bossed round by others;--
I'd ruther kindo' git the swing
O' what was _needed_, first, I jing!
Afore I _swet_ at anything!--
Ef I only had my ruthers;--
In fact I'd aim to be the same
With all men as my brothers;
And they'd all be the same with _me_--
Ef I only had my ruthers.
I wouldn't likely know it all--
Ef I only had my ruthers;--
I'd know _some_ sense, and some base-ball--
Some _old_ jokes, and--some others:
I'd know _some politics_, and 'low
Some tarif-speeches same as now,
Then go hear Nye on "Branes and How
To Detect Theyr Presence." _T'others_,
That stayed away, I'd _let_ 'em stay--
All my dissentin' brothers
Could chuse as shore a kill er cuore,
Ef I only had my ruthers.
The por
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