Page 52 - Poetry-Country

So with it Cupid tumbled to the floor,
Which bruised his pretty limbs, and made him wroth,
He aimed a dart; then smiling gave it o’er—
“Bah! thine old hide is hard as tanner’s cloth!

“Thy heart is withered to a peppercorn
Or I’d have made it smart! Old dormouse, go,
And gain a little freshness from the dawn,
Or thaw thy rheumy limbs where sunbeams glow.
“Here I am master—and that dear old man,
With all his music and his mistletoe
Shall ever frolic, as he only can,
‘Mongst all the happy hearts that love him so.’’
Thus baffled, the old loon, with sullen eye
Went crashing other things, in anger prime;
And Cupid, list’ning, heard their dying cry—
“O Love, ‘tis thine alone to vanquish Time!”

— Burton Betham (Great Thoughts, 1888)

Santa Claus’ Mistake

There lived in this good city once a man of eight-seven,
Brimful of gouty aches and pains, just ripe for death and heaven;
And as it was good Christmas eve he thought he’d try his luck
By hanging up his stocking, for he still loved fun and pluck.

Next door to him a maiden lived, a lovely, charming miss;
She had but sixteen summers seen, was full of life and bliss.
Her eyes, her cheeks, her hands, her face—well, they were just perfection!
And she hung up her stocking too, with bright and gay reflection.

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