wax,
Carrots, comets, carpet tacks.
Every philosophic need
Covered by this capsule creed:
If it be not so to me,
{good}
What care I how {bad} it be?

THE LAND OF RAINBOW'S-END

Young Faintheart lay on a wayside bank,
Full prey to doubts and fears,
When he did espy come trudging by
A Pilgrim bent with years.
His back was bowed and his step was slow,
But his faith no years could bend,
As he eagerly pressed to the rose-lit west
And the Land of Rainbow's-End.

"_It's ho, for a pack!" sang the Pilgrim gray,_
"_And a stout oak staff for friend,_
_And it's over the hills and far away_
_To the Land of Rainbow's-End!_"

"Thou'rt old," young Faintheart cried, "thou'rt old,
And there's many a league to go;
And still thou seekest the pot of gold
At the farther end of the bow."
"I am old, I am old," said the Pilgrim gray,
"But ever my way I'll wend
To the rose-lit hills of the dying day
And the Land of Rainbow's-End."

"Come, rest thee, rest thee by my side;
Give o'er thy doomsday quest."
"Have done, have done!" the Pilgrim cried:
"The light wanes in the west.
The road is long, but I shall not tire;
I will lay my bones, God send,
By the beautiful City of Heart's Desire,
In the Land of Rainbow's-End."

"_Then it's ho, for a pack!" sang the Pilgrim gray,_
"_And a stout oak staff for friend,_
_And it's over the hills and far away_
_To the Land of Rainbow's-End._"

A BALLADE OF A BORE

When the weather is warm and the glass running high
And the odors of Araby tincture the air;
When the sun is aloft in a white and blue sky,
And the morrow holds promise of falling as fair;--
In spring or in summer I'm free to declare,
And the same I am equally free to maintain,
One person has power my peace to impair:
The man who tells limericks gives me a pain.

When the foliage flushes and summer is by,
And russet and red are the popular wear;
When the song of the woodland is changed to a sigh
And the horn of the hunter is heard by the hare;--
In the season of autumn I'm free to declare,
And my language is lucid and simple and plain,
One person's acquaintance I freely forswear:
The man with the limerick gives me a pain.

Whe