Page 78 - Poetry-Books

Indeed, I’ve heard the question much discussed
If some day there’d not be a grasping trust
To buy up all the stars, the Dipper bright,
The Milky Way, and then to rent their light
To lovers, or for burglars’ work at night;
To take the silver moon and let it out
For parties, balls, and without any doubt
On stated nights, in large or smaller shares,
To business men to advertise their wares.
You think this view ridiculous, but wait.
The time is coming when the ship of state
Will go to some big British syndicate;
And on its sails you’ll find in easy view
Such sentiments as “Try J. Stickum’s Glue,”
“Use Prohibition Soap. All Cakes. No Bars,”
Or “Can’t you sleep? Try Opium Cigars.”
The day will come when corporations rich
Will undertake our sinful boys to switch,
And in our base-ball games to catch and pitch.
They’ll come into our homes and keep our books,
Employ our maids, and help us bounce our cooks;
Relieve a victim from the horrid suit
Brought by the maiden old and resolute,
Who thinks he’s acted like a very brute
In running off and leaving her no substitute.
These I can view with equanimity;
But when a corporation rivals me
In poetry,
I do not like it, and I mean to go
On all occasions up two flights or so
Of wood or granite steps to where a Co.
Keeps poetry on tap, and thus to know
What show
Is left for me
For immortality,
Against the combination, don’t you see?
And so it was upon this errand bent
I went,
And learned that this was what the fellows meant.
Four lads they were, as brazen buttons bright,
Gifted with more than ordinary sight.
Born each one of them with wide-open eyes,

~ 76 ~