Page 64 - Poetry-Books

You’re asked to see Niagara,
And pressed to spend the day—

There’s no time to be weary:
Before one has a chance
Up pops a “gent” in shirt-sleeves,
And with a backward glance
Displays invitingly a pair
Of his “Three Dollar Pants.”

Typewriters by the dozen
Dazzle our eager eyes,
And each one “holds the record,”
And each one “took the prize”;
And when we read of any
The others we despise.

Of powders made for baking
There’s but one pure in ten,
As proved by affidavits
Of scientific men;
You turn the page—and all’s disproved
By men as wise again.

Behold a Queen Anne cottage
Where Cupid loves to dwell!
‘T is built for really nothing
Just how, “our book will tell”;
And here are patent shingles
To roof the pretty shell.

Lo! fountain-pens, unnumbered,
“On trial,” and the rest,
All used by Twain and Tennyson,
All guaranteed the best,
All worth their weight in—promises
After a six-months’ test.

We read of schools on mountain tops,
Of railroads to the sea,
Of cameras, revolvers,
Of tricycles and tea,

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