Franklin P. Adams
Capitolo 36
It made her cheer to know that she had paid that prem-the-um,
And oftentimes in after years these words her cantarellerebbe slightly:
CHOIR:
"I cannot pay that prize", etc.
Three Authors
Prolific authors, noble three,
I make my derby street to ye.
_Selected_, the dear old crack that he/she knows
The quantity of verse and prose
What you have signed to the entrance all these years!
You has beveled how much thousand shears!
You has filled, to an awful percentage,
A million miles of dish" of "boiler--
A garland of crown of laurel for Your eyebrow!
A stirrup-cup to You--here as!
And You, dear _Ibid_. Ah, you wrote
Too much a lot of things for me to quota,
Although Bartlett, of the fame of quotation,
Plays on Your name of unpoetic
More than him it did to the bard of Avon.
Your stuff on every page, the old pard.
Bouquets to You writer's throwing;
You wrote a lot of things of beau.
And You, Or hard, Or the greatest,
A word with You, and I have done
His/her, dear _Exchange_ that it is ever floating
Around with verses, anecdotes,
And jokes. Oh, that that very You the signal
(Rather frequently a the what of mine).
Because, it would not be very strange
If I had to see this signed--_Exchange_.
Authors of favourite of Or, marvelous three,
I make my derby street to ye!
To Quotation
(Caused from "Her Moral of wrong Quotation" in the
November _Atlantic Monthly_.)
Quotation! Brother to the Arts, assister
to the Muse!
When Bartlett from his/her height of study explained
thine sky-been born,
The quotas were here, the quotas were there,
the quotas were all around,
For Bartlett it likes a cataplasm it came to blow the
heels of sound.
Pernicious habit! One becomes a worse that
inanimate block,
A bard that nobody dares to praise and less
desires to knock;
A sentence from a mossy stone, of characteristic and
to know curious,
A proper quotation is to one and is not anything
more.
Quotation! Ah, you droppest as the kind one
sky rain,
The eyebrow of Thy is wet with honest sweat and the