Read Ebook: The Pacifist and other poems by Brinton Howard Futhey

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THE POOR MAN'S CLUB

The Poor Man's Club is a wonderful place, Neither fashionable, swift nor slow, A kindly, rare, psychological spot, As those who frequent it well know. It's built on the marvelous "Dutch treat" plan Which is sane and destructive to fear. You stand for yourself, also pay for yourself, And expand in democracy's cheer. Now this old club, in fact, is just an excuse For a rare metaphysical "bee." "Missourians" they, with a look which conveys: "My friend, you will have to show me." No cynical scoff nor ironical thrust, No skeptical look nor a sneer, Just a leveling kind, "don't throw a bluff" glance, Then "welcome here without fear." The Poor Man's Club hates the stuffed suit kind; I opine it dislikes the "know It all" sort, the artistically weird, Still more it detests the blow. It ignores the sycophant's sly, smooth tricks And the man who tries to droll. It shunts a cold, climbing, cynical cad As it would a plain damned fool. In short it's a sane sort of potpourri Or a melting pot, you know, For "high brow," "low brow," no brows at all, Or flotsam who just come and go. Yes, the Poor Man's Club is a leveling place For the man with mental bumps. Its light and cheer are just the best boost For the one who's in the dumps. Life's edges rough with a deft, tactful touch, It smooths for the man who's down, And the one who's up never tries the snide trick Of a patronizing frown. So if some night you are all out of sorts And don't know what to do, Why just drop in to the Poor Man's Club, And let me present to you First "Jack" and "Mac," then old "Skeff" and "Lope" And "Jawn" and rare "Doc" and "Bill," Also "Mont" and "Cook," or some "also ran brows," And then you can have your fill Of talk that's light and a good heartening up And kindly repartee, In the night you spend in parry and tierce At the sign of the "Old P. M. C."

RETROSPECT

She's sweet, I declare, and she's real debonair, And she just sort of has me "way up in the air!" There's a touch of the gyp in her arch little eye, And the savor of health as she passes you by. Her hair is jet black; her look rings real true, And the tinge of her heart I am sure is true blue. I shall ever recall, if I live to four score, The impress she made on me, the old bore, As she sat on the stairs one night long ago, With a touch of the roguish, a wonderful glow In her exquisite eyes never equaled as yet. They've haunted me since and I'll never forget That touch of the roguish, that wonderful glow In her exquisite eyes on that night long ago.

ON "GUNGHA DIN"

Have you ever heard Schaffer declaim of old "Din," "Din," "Gungha Din," He gives all its savors, Its turns and its quavers And all the camp flavors Of "Din," "Gungha Din."

I wish Rudyard Kipling could hear Schaffer chin On "Din," "Gungha Din," He catches its chiming, Its scanning and rhyming, And the depth of repining In "Din," "Gungha Din."

With a mien that is grave, old Schaffer wades in To "Din," "Gungha Din!" You hear bullets flying And screeching, men sighing When Schaffer is plying His "Din," "Gungha Din."

If some night you hear a real terrible din After "Din," "Gungha Din!" You'll know they're applauding And cheering and lauding Old Schaffer marauding Through "Din," "Gungha Din."

WHY?

BARNEY

Have you ne'er heard of Barney? Come, none of your blarney; You've ne'er heard of Barney, the wight? He's a real Celt; he's witty; He lives in this city, And waits at Meran's every night.

After hopeless arraignment, With well-done containment, One called on old Barney so that He might judge the matter-- To ease up the clatter, And put a quick end to the spat.

"I've thought and I've wondered," Said Barney, "I've pondered, To see, sir, just where I was at. The world is not round, sir, For I've always found, sir, Whenever I hit it, 'twas flat."

COME, LITTLE GIRL

I'LL COME, LITTLE BOY

CHENOWETH

YOU WONDER

You wonder, you surmise, And with imploring eyes, You ask me: "Will you always love me so?" Your soul is searching mine, While your trembling lips make sign To ask me "Will you always love me so?"

Your soul is all afire, With that questioning desire To ask me: "Will you always love me so?" But your pride bids you keep still, And you force me by sheer will To tell you: "I will always love you so."

IN "DEL'S"

In the rich warm light, We sat one night At dear Delmonico's. The menu there, With dishes rare, Hints gastronomic throes.

She scanned it down, 'Twixt smile and frown, And then expressed a wish To try some quails And Newburg snails-- The last a dainty dish.

New York her "town," On which we frown In Philadelphia slow, And not a word I've ever heard Of eating snails, you know.

I said as much With just a touch Of thin-veiled irony, And then she said, With turn of head, While smiling quizzically:

"In Quaker town, Of great renown, They tell me they're so slow, They don't eat snail Because they fail To catch them. Is it so?"

THE MOTHER

Ah! for one look at you, Dear baby mine. Ah! just to fondle you, Croon you a rhyme. Ah! for the eyes of you, Dear little pearl. Ah! just to love you, My baby girl.

JUMBO'S DREAM

THE BLUES

If you've ever a "grouch," little girl, And your brain is all twisted and torn; If your nerves are all racked, little girl, And the world looks all blue and forlorn; Don't commune with yourself, little girl, But just let me share it, please do, For I'm part of you, my little girl, And I love you, dear heart, yes, I do.

THE "I TOLD YOU SO CLUB"

Not Eve's daughters only, but Adam's sons lonely Are hipped on their judgment of men; They think they have got them, can size them or spot them, But mostly they don't. Dinna ken?

E PLURIBUS

The Old World says we are commercial, Yet "a dollar's a dollar," they say. Have done with your "green eyes," my brothers, For world o'er achievement holds sway. Come, cease your irrational boasting, And stand by the land sought by you; Then when you are singing and toasting, Sing, sing for the Red, White and Blue,

From the Somme comes democracy's pleading; The Thames takes up the refrain. The Scotch and the Irish are struggling; Brave Canada's not called in vain. The Flemish not yielding or boasting; Proud Portugal fights her way through. And Italy's brave sons we're toasting, We're coming, the Red, White and Blue.

We'll ne'er crook to yoke of a master; To superman never pay toll; We'll never bow down like a vassal; No, better the hemlock, the bowl! The cause of humanity's calling. Take heart, we have heard it; we're true; For that cause brave men are now falling, The men of the Red, White, and Blue.

THE MAN ABOUT TOWN

ELK CREEK

Purling and winding midst balsam andtes de un palacio, donde es una especie de comercio los chismes y enredos, dando publicidad en su provecho ? todos los defectos de sus soberanos?

Grande paz pareci? reinar al principio desde la llegada de Do?a Juana; el archiduque hacia por no dar ? conocer ? nadie lo que ocupaba su imaginacion, disimulando en cuanto podia el amor de su rubia, pero se enga?aba; ni aun sus pasos mas rec?nditos se escapaban ? la penetracion de su esposa. Los mismos palaciegos daban parte diario ? su se?or de si lo celaba su esposa; y estos mismos palaciegos cercioraban ? la archiduquesa detalladamente de cuanto podia contribuir ? irritarla mas. Por uno de estos lleg? ? saber que una de las cosas que mas habian encantado ? su esposo de la camarista, era su hermos?sima poblada y rubia cabellera. Mas no contento aun con esta declaracion, le indic? los sitios y horas donde comunmente se daban las citas.

Con la relacion anterior lleg? ? agotarse completamente la paciencia de la archiduquesa, porque acab? de conocer, que habia empleado en vano todos los recursos que le proporcionara su acendrado amor, para ver si de esta suerte hacia desaparecer de su marido una pasion que ella jam?s crey? arraigada, porque la creia un capricho. Sus celos, refrenados por algun tiempo, eran desde este dia un violento frenes? que aumentaba sus padecimientos. Alguna que otra vez ya habian mediado varias palabras entre los esposos, pero el archiduque, muy enamorado de su rubia, hacia por disculparse, practic?ndolo con la mayor sangre fria. Estas cosas era imposible durasen asi largo tiempo, porque ni el uno podia satisfacer su amor, ni el otro soportar tantas humillaciones y desv?o, y tampoco porque las pasiones de ?nimo no se pueden contener.

Una escena terrible, por un descuido de Felipe, tuvo lugar. Le sorprendi? su esposa con la querida... Grande fue el esc?ndalo que circul? por toda la C?rte, y grande fue el trabajo que le cost? contener la furia de su mancillada esposa, porque esta ya no pensaba mas que en la venganza. ?Y cosa admirable en esta mujer!... De esta venganza no queria fuese participe su esposo, pues aunque habia llegado ? notar el despego y descaro con que solia tratarla, no obstante lo idolatraba de todo corazon. Su furia era espresamente dedicada para su adversaria, para aquella indigna mujer que le habia arrebatado lo que mas adoraba en la tierra. Y gracias que la timidez de abandonar del todo el amor de su marido, la reprimia en parte.

Ya era testigo el palacio de Bruselas de los descompasados gritos, repetidas contiendas, y descompuestas palabras de los j?venes pr?ncipes, sin embargo de poner cuanto estaba de su parte por disimular el archiduque, para evitar los esc?ndalos.

Los celos habituales de la infanta daban or?gen ? que no cesase de acechar el momento de realizar su venganza, mas lleg? por desgracia. Un dia ?dia fatal! que pasando su errante mirada por todos los objetos que la circundaban, se encontr? con la camarista, ech? mano de unas bien afiladas tijeras, de que siempre iba armada, se lanz? sobre ella cual el ?guila sobre su presa, y antes de que su contraria lo hubiera podido evitar, ya la habia despojado de su dorada cabellera. No satisfecha aun, la llen? de contusiones y ara?azos, y podemos asegurar que si los gritos de la camarista, no hubiesen hecho acudir al lugar de la sangrienta escena ? todos los dependientes del palacio, y hasta ? su mismo marido, era probable hubiese acabado con la que habia sido causa de sus sufrimientos.

Felipe, viendo despojada ? su querida del objeto que mas lo entusiasmara, se llen? de indignacion: y fueron tantos los improperios, tantas las palabras ofensivas ? insultantes que dirigi? ? su esposa, que no se le hubieran dicho iguales ? la muger mas despreciable de la sociedad.

El haber visto que Felipe la trataba de aquella manera, contribuy? en gran modo ? trastornar completamente su juicio. Jam?s podia creer Do?a Juana semejante trato en su esposo.

La escandalosa escena que acabamos de pintar, no tard? en llegar ? oidos de la reina Isabel, y tuvo tan gran sentimiento, que fue la causa de que se agravase mas su enfermedad. Sin embargo, procur? por todos los medios que estuvieron ? su alcance, introducir la paz entre sus hijos, ni si?ndola posible lograrlo por algun tiempo: la archiduquesa tenia una herida que no era f?cil cicatrizar. Por fin, alcanzaron sus s?plicas hacer la reconciliacion. Se unieron los esposos, pero no por esto recobr? Do?a Juana su tranquilidad.

Entretanto la salud de Do?a Isabel decaia por instantes. Sus padecimientos eran tan continuos, que ya no se dudaba de su pronta muerte. Uno de los principales personajes de la c?rte, ?nica heredera del reino de Castilla ? su hija Do?a Juana, y en defecto de esta ? D. C?rlos, su nieto; pero advirtiendo que si la primera se hallaba imposibilitada, y C?rlos no tenia veinte a?os, gobernase D. Fernando, hasta que aquel llegara ? esta edad.

Efectivamente, el dia 26 de noviembre de 1504 falleci? en Medina del Campo la reina Isabel la Cat?lica, y al siguiente dia orden? D. Fernando proclamar por reina de Espa?a ? su hija la archiduquesa de Austria. Las C?rtes verificadas en Toro el 11 de enero de 1508, fueron las primeras que juraron ? Do?a Juana por reina propietaria de los vastos dominios de Espa?a. No pudieron por entonces los archiduques abandonar ? Flandes, tanto por los innumerables asuntos pendientes en ?l, como por el avanzado estado de pre?ez de la reina; habiendo nacido ? poco tiempo la princesa Do?a Mar?a.

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