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Always makes her wish to pray;
And “dear old Bach!” His very name
She says, her ear enchants;
But —
Her favorite piece is Weber’s
“Invitation to the Dance.”
A BALLADE OF DEATH AND TIME
I hold it truth with him who sweetly sings —
The weekly music of the London Sphere—
That deathless tomes the living present brings:
Great literature is with us year on year.
Books of the mighty dead, whom men revere,
Remind me I can make my books sublime.
But prithee, bay my brow while I am here:
Why do we always wait for Death and Time?
Shakespeare, great spirit, beat his mighty wings,
As I beat mine, for the occasion near.
He knew, as I, the worth of present things:
Great literature is with us year on year.
Methinks I meet across the gulf his clear
And tranquil eye; his calm reflections chime
With mine: “Why do we at the present fleer?
Why do we always wait for Death and Time?”
The reading world with acclamation rings
For my last book. It led the list at Weir,
Altoona, Rahway, Painted Post, Hot Springs:
Great literature is with us year on year.
The Bookman gives me a vociferous cheer.
Howells approves! I can no higher climb.
Bring then the laurel, crown my bright career.
Why do we always wait for Death and Time?
L’Envoi
Critics, who pastward, ever pastward peer,
Great literature is with us year on year.
Trumpet my fame while I am in my prime.
Why do we always wait for Death and Time?
THE KAISER’S FAREWELL TO PRINCE HENRY
Aufwiedersehen, brother mine!
Farewells will soon be kissed;
And ere you leave to breast the brine
Give me once more your fist;
That mailéd fist, clenched high in air
On many a foreign shore,
Enforcing coaling stations where
No stations were before;
That fist, which weaker nations view
As if ’twere Michael’s own,
And which appals the heathen who
Bow down to wood and stone.
But this trip no brass knuckles. Glove
That heavy mailéd hand;
Your mission now is one of Love
And Peace – you understand.
All that’s American you’ll praise;
The Yank can do no wrong.
To use his own expressive phrase,
Just “jolly him along.”
Express surprise to find, the more
Of Roosevelt you see,
How much I am like Theodore,
And Theodore like me.
I am, in fact, (this might not be
A bad thing to suggest,)
The Theodore of the East, and he
The William of the West.
And, should you get a chance, find out —
If anybody knows —
Exactly what it’s all about,
That Doctrine of Monroe’s.
That’s entre nous. My present plan
You know as well as I:
Be just as Yankee as you can;
If needs be, eat some pie.
Cut out the ’kraut, cut out Rhine wine,
Cut out the Schützenfest,
The Sängerbund, the Turnverein,
The Kommers, and the rest.
And if some fool society
“Die Wacht am Rhein” should sing,
You sing “My Country, ’Tis of Thee” —
The tune’s “God Save the King.”
And “dear old Bach!” His very name
She says, her ear enchants;
But —
Her favorite piece is Weber’s
“Invitation to the Dance.”
A BALLADE OF DEATH AND TIME
I hold it truth with him who sweetly sings —
The weekly music of the London Sphere—
That deathless tomes the living present brings:
Great literature is with us year on year.
Books of the mighty dead, whom men revere,
Remind me I can make my books sublime.
But prithee, bay my brow while I am here:
Why do we always wait for Death and Time?
Shakespeare, great spirit, beat his mighty wings,
As I beat mine, for the occasion near.
He knew, as I, the worth of present things:
Great literature is with us year on year.
Methinks I meet across the gulf his clear
And tranquil eye; his calm reflections chime
With mine: “Why do we at the present fleer?
Why do we always wait for Death and Time?”
The reading world with acclamation rings
For my last book. It led the list at Weir,
Altoona, Rahway, Painted Post, Hot Springs:
Great literature is with us year on year.
The Bookman gives me a vociferous cheer.
Howells approves! I can no higher climb.
Bring then the laurel, crown my bright career.
Why do we always wait for Death and Time?
L’Envoi
Critics, who pastward, ever pastward peer,
Great literature is with us year on year.
Trumpet my fame while I am in my prime.
Why do we always wait for Death and Time?
THE KAISER’S FAREWELL TO PRINCE HENRY
Aufwiedersehen, brother mine!
Farewells will soon be kissed;
And ere you leave to breast the brine
Give me once more your fist;
That mailéd fist, clenched high in air
On many a foreign shore,
Enforcing coaling stations where
No stations were before;
That fist, which weaker nations view
As if ’twere Michael’s own,
And which appals the heathen who
Bow down to wood and stone.
But this trip no brass knuckles. Glove
That heavy mailéd hand;
Your mission now is one of Love
And Peace – you understand.
All that’s American you’ll praise;
The Yank can do no wrong.
To use his own expressive phrase,
Just “jolly him along.”
Express surprise to find, the more
Of Roosevelt you see,
How much I am like Theodore,
And Theodore like me.
I am, in fact, (this might not be
A bad thing to suggest,)
The Theodore of the East, and he
The William of the West.
And, should you get a chance, find out —
If anybody knows —
Exactly what it’s all about,
That Doctrine of Monroe’s.
That’s entre nous. My present plan
You know as well as I:
Be just as Yankee as you can;
If needs be, eat some pie.
Cut out the ’kraut, cut out Rhine wine,
Cut out the Schützenfest,
The Sängerbund, the Turnverein,
The Kommers, and the rest.
And if some fool society
“Die Wacht am Rhein” should sing,
You sing “My Country, ’Tis of Thee” —
The tune’s “God Save the King.”
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