SONNET WROTE WHILST RETROSPECTIVELY CONTEMPLATIN’ MY FIRST CIGAR
Oh, woe is me! and other things like that! Yestreen I soughtst to smoke my first cigar: It gav’st my system a tremendous jar! I didst not have the gumption of a gnat. All night I couldst not tell where I wast at. I wish I knew just what those cheap smokes are; It seem’st to me they’re made of glue and tar. Ah, me! I’m weaker than a half-starved cat.
Oh, let them smoke henceforth, say’st I, who will, For who am I that I shouldst dare condemn Their vile tobacco? I have hadst my fill: Let others have it; I sha’n’tst envy them, For I’llst not never smoke no more until I’m ten times older than Mathusalem!
SONNET WROTE WHILST THINKIN’ ABOUT A VACATION SPENT ON A FARM
O Farmer, independentest of all Mankind art thou! I know, because, last year I spent my whole vacation, pretty near, On Uncle Eben’s farm, and though I’m small, I hoed the corn and beans, and helped him haul And stack his hay. I’dst work until I’dst fear I’dst just drop down and end my sad career Before they’dst give the welcome dinner call.
My uncle dost not weigh his words with care, For once he told me that I wast a shirk; But I wouldst rather breathe the country air Than be a shut-in office-boy or clerk; For I found out whilst visitin’ out there That I like farmin’, but I hate farm work.
LINES COMPOSED AFTER SEEIN’ A BOOK FULL OF BYRON’S LOVE LETTERS
One reason why I’m ’most afraid to get So famous like we poets always do, Is that they’ll print my spoony letters, too, As is the way with all of us who let Our fancies caper. Hadst I thought whilst yet Unknown, I’dst be a poet, quite a few Endearin’ words with which I soughtst to woo More girls than one I’dst not have wrote, you bet!
If Susan Sanderson shouldst find I sent The valentine I saidst I wrote for her To Jane Jones, too, the thirty cents I’ve spent For soda water’s wasted, I’dst infer: Why must we poets do things we’ll repent? And oh! why thus didst me and Byron err?
SONNET WROTE AFTER HEARIN’ A YOUTH ORATIN’ ABOUT “CASABIANCA”
O Boy, that stood’st upon the burnin’ deck And gotst thyself in our school readers and The “Whoop-’er-up” school speakers of our land Because thou wouldst not leave that sinkin’ wreck, Oh, don’tst thou think if thou hadst saved thy neck And wisely cut and run to beat the band, Thou couldst have later done things still more grand? Alas! too soon didst death thy valor check!