Page 62 - Poetry-Books

Tardy Wit

A bright little man sat bemoaning the fate
Of the wit that is tardy and sparkles too late;
Of the keen repartee that is strictly one’s own,
But comes into view when occasion has flown.
Oh! the ideas, apposite, bright, and sublime,
That travel like stage-coaches never on time,
So sluggish in movement, so slow in the race
That a new topic renders them quite out of place.
So the bright little man, with a serious look,
Remarked to himself, as he opened his book,
“Of regrets that annoy a humorist’s head,
The saddest is this: It might have been said!”

— J.A. Macon (Century Magazine, 1890)

Modesty

“What hundred books are best, think you?” I said,
Addressing one devoted to the pen.
He thought a moment, then he raised his head:
“I hardly know—I’ve written only ten.”

— John Kendrick Bangs (Century Magazine, 1890)

Plaint

“Alas, how easily things go wrong!”
A verse too much, or a page too long,
And you find you’ve expended your soul in vain,
For back your manuscript comes again.

“Alas, how hardly things go right!”
You are either too heavy, or else too light;
You’ve too little, or else too much to say
And it’s “not available” either way!

— Margaret Vandegrift (Century Magazine, 1890)

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