The symphonies ascend, a swelling tide,
Melodious thunders fill the welkin wide
The grand old lawyers, chinning on their chins!
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Be pleased, O Lord, to take a people’s thanks
That Thou hast parted from our lips the cupAnd forced our neighbors’ lips to drink it up.Father of Mercies, with a heart contriteWe thank Thee that Thou goest south to smite,And sparest San Francisco’s loins, to crackThy lash on Hermosillo’s bleeding back-That o’er our homes Thine awful angel spreadHis wings in vain, and Guaymas weeps…
Like a worn mother he attempts in vain
The more he rocks the cradle of his chinThe more uproarious grows the brat within.
I Slept, and, waking in the years to be,
Listened indifferently where a keyHad lately been removed. An ancient dameSaid to her daughter: ‘Go to yonder caddyAnd get some emery to scour your daddy.’And then I knew-some intuition saidThat tombs were not and men had cleared their shelvesOf urns; and the electro-plated deadStood pedestaled as statues of themselves.With famous dead men all the public…
Yawp, yawp, yawp!
It’s aye the rabble,And I to gabble,And hey! for the tale that is never done.‘Chant, chant, chant!To woo the reluctant vote.I would I were deadAnd my say were saidAnd my song were sung to its ultimate note.‘Stab, stab, stab!Ah! the weapon between my teethI’m sick of the flash of it;See how the slash of itMisses…
Good Parson Dickson preached, I’m told,
And very, very, bald!‘Twas all about-I know not whatIt was about, nor what ’twas not.‘A Screw Loose’ it was called.Whatever, Parson Dick, you say,The world will get each blessed dayStill more and more askew,And fall apart at last. Great snakes!What skillful tinker ever takesHis tongue to turn a screw?
Newman, in you two parasites combine:
When on the virtues of the quick you’ve dwelt,The pride of residence was all you felt(What vain vulgarian the wish ne’er knewTo paint his lodging a flamboyant hue?)And when the praises of the dead you’ve sung,‘Twas appetite, not truth, inspired your tongue;As ill-bred men when warming to their wineBoast of its merit though it be…