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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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