IJ The Anodyne.
It is Springtime! A cardinal bird woos his mate on a wistaria vine.
Sings he in his song to her:—
"Violet's blue, blue—Twinkle tinkle!
Lavender's green, green.
When I am king, king—Tinkle twinkle!
You shall be queen, queen."
While his mate dreams of a little bird in its shell.
What lost pulse could resist that?
"O dear Doctor! O dear Doctor!" softly hums the fairy lady as she beholds his healing cure.
Twinkle tinkle! Tinkle twinkle! Thus did the columbine swing on the wind of evening. Will not you human folk admit that its swaying brings such sweet results?
"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven," O dear! O dear!—"Eight!"
Found is the little lost pulse beat. Therefore, cured is the fainting fairy lady. Therefore, proud is the learned dragon fly.
And as for you human folk, would you not do
