Tater! tater! Did I wish to beat Nater,
I'd take you when new, and produce a baked tater!
Some scoff at a tater, and don't wish to see un;
They say you are vulgar and very plebeian,
And call you a root! But their minds are unsound:
It's your modesty tells you to hide in the ground.
Tater! tater! Many-eyed, potent tater!
(King Richard with III. was only Dick-tater.)
But alas! you are deaf to my harp's fond endeavor,
Or I'd sing in this beautiful fashion forever!
You have eyes, but you see not; you're deaf as a drum;
And as none else will listen, like you I'll be dumb.
Tater! tater! When I leave mortal Nater,
Let the world calmly think what I thought of a tater!
W. O. Eaton.
"AN UNKNOWN MAN, RESPECTABLY DRESSED."
"An unknown man, respectably dressed,"
That was all that the record said:
Wondering pity might guess the rest;
One thing was sure,—the man was dead.
And dead, because he'd no heart to live;
His courage had faltered, and failed the test:
How little the all we now can give,—
A nameless sod to cover his breast!
"Respectably dressed!" The thoughtless read
The sentence over, and idly say,—
"What was it, then, since it was not need,
Which made him thus fling his life away?"
"Respectably dressed!" How little they know,
Who never have been for money pressed,
What it costs respectable poor to go,
Day after day, "respectably dressed!"