"'Tis true, my teeth went long ago;
Now painless ones I have, you know.
Yet I visit oft in my tar-heel town
A store and a girl in a showy gown,
To buy her gum and soothing smile;
You scarce believe me, it's many a mile
I thus have trod with loving guile—
And one day laughing my teeth fell down,
In her presence, sir,
I could not help it."
"That winsome girl who serves our table—
I vow that I am quite unable
To keep my eyes from following her,
As tail doth horse, 'neath whip and spur;
I'm honest sir;
I cannot help it.
"My little dog—he's just a fice—
Returns my love, his paradise.
I brought him down to Florida;
But the finest dog in all America
Can't take the place of a girl so sweet—
From crown to sole of her dainty feet,
My love's complete—
And, it's all the truth, sir,
I cannot help it."
"Just seventy-three—
'Tis plenty for me,
I wish it were less,
But nevertheless this girl of eighteen
Could rule me as queen;
And have all I possess,
For her sweetest caress—
Sir, by the Lord and His goodness,
I cannot help it!"
AN ODE ON WOODROW WILSON AND THE LEAGUE
OF NATIONS
I.
In all the cycles past the good and wise
Have dreamed of Wisdom's way;
The prophets' eyes
Could see, and they foretold the day,
The glory of the coming paradise;
And higher far than lofty prophets bold,
In every stage
Of human rage,
The God of hosts hath willed his vast, united fold.
