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MAD.

  O ye who push and fight     To hear a wanton sing—   Who utter the delight     That has the bogus ring,—   O men mature in years,     In understanding young,   The membranes of whose ears     She tickles with her tongue,—   O wives and daughters sweet,     Who call it love of art   To kiss a woman's feet     That crush a woman's heart,—   O prudent dams and sires,     Your docile young who bring   To see how man admires     A sinner if she sing,—   O husbands who impart     To each assenting spouse   The lesson that shall start     The buds upon your brows,—   All whose applauding hands     Assist to rear the fame   That throws o'er all the lands     The shadow of its shame,—   Go drag her car!—the mud     Through which its axle rolls   Is partly human blood     And partly human souls.   Mad, mad!—your senses whirl     Like devils dancing free,   Because a strolling girl     Can hold the note high C.   For this the avenging rod     Of Heaven ye dare defy,   And tear the law that God     Thundered from Sinai!

HOSPITALITY.

  Why ask me, Gastrogogue, to dine   (Unless to praise your rascal wine)   Yet never ask some luckless sinner   Who needs, as I do not, a dinner?

FOR A CERTAIN CRITIC.

  Let lowly themes engage my humble pen—   Stupidities of critics, not of men.   Be it mine once more the maunderings to trace   Of the expounders' self-directed race—   Their wire-drawn fancies, finically fine,   Of diligent vacuity the sign.   Let them in jargon of their trade rehearse   The moral meaning of the random verse   That runs spontaneous from the poet's pen   To be half-blotted by ambitious men   Who hope with his their meaner names to link   By writing o'er it in another ink   The thoughts unreal which they think they think,   Until the mental eye in vain inspects   The hateful palimpsest to find the text.   The lark ascending heavenward, loud and long   Sings to the dawning day his wanton song.   The moaning dove, attentive to the sound,   Its hidden meaning hastens to expound:   Explains its principles, design—in brief,   Pronounces it a parable of grief!   The bee, just pausing ere he daubs his thigh   With pollen from a hollyhock near by,   Declares he never heard in terms so just   The labor problem thoughtfully discussed!   The browsing ass looks up and clears his whistle   To say: "A monologue upon the thistle!"   Meanwhile the lark, descending, folds his wing   And innocently asks: "What!—did I sing?"   O literary parasites! who thrive   Upon the fame of better men, derive   Your sustenance by suction, like a leech,   And, for you preach of them, think masters preach,—   Who find it half is profit, half delight,   To write about what you could never write,—   Consider, pray, how sharp had been the throes   Of famine and discomfiture in those   You write of if they had been critics, too,   And doomed to write of nothing but of you!   Lo! where the gaping crowd throngs yonder tent,   To see the lion resolutely bent!   The prosing showman who the beast displays   Grows rich and richer daily in its praise.   But how if, to attract the curious yeoman,   The lion owned the show and showed the showman?

RELIGIOUS PROGRESS.

Every religion is important. When men rise above existing conditions a new religion comes in, and it is better than the old one.

Professor Howison.
  Professor dear, I think it queer     That all these good religions   ('Twixt you and me, some two or three     Are schemes for plucking pigeons)—   I mean 'tis strange that every change     Our poor minds to unfetter   Entails a new religion—true     As t' other one, and better.   From each in turn the truth we learn,     That wood or flesh or spirit   May justly boast it rules the roast     Until we cease to fear it.   Nay, once upon a time long gone     Man worshipped Cat and Lizard:   His God he'd find in any kind     Of beast, from a to izzard.   When risen above his early love     Of dirt and blood and slumber,   He pulled down these vain deities,     And made one out of lumber.   "Far better that than even a cat,"     The Howisons all shouted;   "When God is wood religion's good!"     But one poor cynic doubted.   "A timber God—that's very odd!"     Said Progress, and invented   The simple plan to worship Man,     Who, kindly soul! consented.   But soon our eye we lift asky,     Our vows all unregarded,   And find (at least so says the priest)     The Truth—and Man's discarded.   Along our line of march recline     Dead gods devoid of feeling;   And thick about each sun-cracked lout     Dried Howisons are kneeling.

MAGNANIMITY.

  "To the will of the people we loyally bow!"   That's the minority shibboleth now.   O noble antagonists, answer me flat—   What would you do if you didn't do that?

TO HER.

  O, Sinner A, to me unknown   Be such a conscience as your own!   To ease it you to Sinner B   Confess the sins of Sinner C.

TO A SUMMER POET.