The maid was in the garden. Happy maid!
Her choice entitles her to rank above
Master and Mistress. Gladly she surveyed
The Garden That I Love!

-Where grow my daffodils, anemones,
Tulips, auriculas, chrysanthemums,
Cabbages, asparagus, sweet peas,
With apples, pears, and plums -

(That's a parenthesis. The very name
Of garden really carries one astray !)
But suddenly a feathered ruffian came,
And stole her nose away.

Eight stanzas finished! So my Court costume
I lay aside: the Laureate, I suppose,

Has done his part; the man may now resume His journalistic prose.

Anthony C. Deane

AFTER W. S. GILBERT

ODE TO A LONDON FOG

R°

OLL on, thick haze, roll on!
Through each familiar way
Roll on!

What though I must go out to-day?
What though my lungs are rather queer?
What though asthmatic ills I fear?
What though my wheeziness is clear?
Never you mind!
Roll on!

Roll on, thick haze, roll on!
Through street and square and lane
Roll on!

It's true I cough and cough again;
It's true I gasp and puff and blow;
It's true my trip may lay me low-
But that's not your affair, you know.
Never you mind!

Roll on!

Anonymous.

W

PRESIDENT GARFIELD

HEN he was a lad he served a term

On a big canal with a boatman's firm; With a heart so free and a will so strong, On the towpath drove two mules along. And he drove those mules so carefullee He's a candidate now for the Presidencee.

As a driver boy he made such a mark
He came to the deck of the inland barque
And all of the perils to boat and crew.
He stood at the helm and guided thro'.
He stood at the helm so manfullee
He's a candidate now for the Presidencee.

He did so well with the helm and mules,
They made him a teacher of district schools;
And when from college in a bran new suit,
A Greek Professor at the Institute,
Where Greek and Latin he taught so free
He's a candidate now for the Presidencee.

Now boys who cherish ambitious schemes,
Though now you may be but drivers of teams,
Look well to the work you may chance to do,
And do it with a hand that is kind and true.
Whatever you do, do it faithfullee,
And you may aspire to the Presidencee.

Anonymous.

C

PROPINQUITY NEEDED

ELESTINE Silvousplait Justine de Mouton
Rosalie,

A coryphée who lived and danced in naughty,
gay Paree,

Was every bit as pretty as a French girl e'er can be (Which is n't saying much).

Maurice Boulanger (there's a name that would adorn a king),

But Morris Baker was the name they called the man I sing.

He lived in New York City in the Street that's labeled Spring

(Chosen because it rhymed).

Now Baker was a lonesome youth and wanted to be wed,

And for a wife, all over town he hunted, it is said; And up and down Fifth Avenue he ofttimes wandered

(He was a peripatetic Baker, he was).

And had he met Celestine, not a doubt but Cupid's darts

Would in a trice have wounded both of their fond, loving hearts;

But he has never left New York to stray in foreign

parts

(Because he has n't the price).

And she has never left Paree and so, of course, you

see

There's not the slightest chance at all she 'll marry Morris B.

For love to get well started, really needs propinquity (Hence my title).

Charles Battell Loomis.