: Cobwebs from a Library Corner by Bangs John Kendrick - Poetry

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BOOKISH

WISE AND OTHERWISE

NAPOLINI'S ERROR MY COLOR CONTENTMENT IN NATURE THE HEROIC GUNNER THE PATHETIC TALE OF THE CADDY BOY GARRULOUS WISDOM THE PERJURY OF A REJECTED LOVER MAID OF CULTURE NOT PERFECT A CITY DWELLER'S WISH WHERE ARE THEY? MEMORIES A SAD STATE AD ASTRA PER OTIUM. CONSOLATION SATISFACTION ON READING "NOT ONE DISSATISFIED," BY WALT WHITMAN TO A WITHERED ROSE THE WORST OF ENEMIES JOKES OF THE NIGHT AN AUTUMNAL ROMANCE THE COUNTRY IN JULY MAY 30, 1893 THE CURSE OF WEALTH THE RHYME OF THE ANCIENT POPULIST ONE OF THE NAMELESS GREAT IN FEBRUARY DAYS A CHANGE OF AMBITION MESSAGE FROM MAHATMAS THE GOLD-SEEKERS ODE TO A POLITICIAN SOME ARE AMATEURS

BOOKISH

A LITTLE bit of Thackeray, A little bit of Scott, A modicum of Dickens just To tangle up the plot, A paraphrase of Marryat, Another from Dumas-- You ask me for a novel, sir, And I say, there you are.

The pen is greater than the sword, Of that there is no doubt. The pen for me whene'er I wish An enemy to rout. A pen, a pad, and say a pint Of ink with which to scrawl, To put a foe to flight is all That's needed--truly all.

But when it comes to making up A novel in these days You do not need a pen at all To win the writer's bays. A pair of sharpened scissors and A wealth of pure white page Will do it if you have at hand A pot of mucilage.

So give to me the scissors keen, And give to me the glue, And I will fix a novel up That's sure to startle you. The good ideas have all been worked, But while we've gum and paste There shall be books and books and books To please the public taste.

IN my collection famed of curios I have, as every bookman knows, A pen that Thackeray once used. To be amused, I thought I'd "take that pen in hand," And see what came of it--what grand Inspired lines 'twould write, One Sunday night. I dipped it in the ink, And tried to think, "Just what shall I indite?" And do you know, that pen went fairly mad; A dreadful time with it I had. It spluttered, spattered, scratched, and blotted so, I had to give it up, you know. It really wouldn't work for me, And so I put it down; but last night, after tea, I took it up again, And equally in vain. The hours sped; I went to bed, And in my dreams the pen came up to me and said: "Here is the list of Asses who have tried To take up pens the master laid aside; Look thou!" I looked, and lo!--perhaps you've guessed-- My name, like Abou Ben's, led all the rest!

A LITERARY FEAST

MY Bookworm gave a dinner to a number of his set. I was not there--I say it to my very great regret. For they dined well, I fancy, if the menu that I saw Was followed as implicitly as one obeys the law.

"'Twill open," he observed to me, "with quatrains on the half. They go down easy; then for soup"--it really made me laugh-- "The poems of old Johnny Gay"--his words were rather rough-- "They'll do quite well, for, after all, soup's thin and sloppy stuff.

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