f Isness and shimmer of Was,
Queen Thisness and Which in one;
Shine out, little Which, sunning over the bangs,
To the Nowness, and be its sun.

There has fallen a splendid tear
From the Is flower at the fence;
She is coming, my Which, my dear,
And as she Whistles a song of the Whence,
The Nowness cries, "She is near, she is near."
And the Thingness howls, "Alas!"
The Whoness murmurs, "Well, I should smile,"
And the Whatlet sobs, "I pass."

_Unknown._

THE LITTLE STAR

Scintillate, scintillate, globule orific,
Fain would I fathom thy nature's specific.
Loftily poised in ether capacious,
Strongly resembling a gem carbonaceous.

When torrid Ph[oe]bus refuses his presence
And ceases to lamp with fierce incandescence,
Then you illumine the regions supernal,
Scintillate, scintillate, semper nocturnal.

Then the victim of hospiceless peregrination
Gratefully hails your minute coruscation.
He could not determine his journey's direction
But for your bright scintillating protection.

_Unknown._

THE ORIGINAL LAMB

Oh, Mary had a little Lamb, regarding whose cuticular
The fluff exterior was white and kinked in each particular.
On each occasion when the lass was seen perambulating,
The little quadruped likewise was there a gallivating.

One day it did accompany her to the knowledge dispensary,
Which to every rule and precedent was recklessly contrary.
Immediately whereupon the pedagogue superior,
Exasperated, did eject the lamb from the interior.

Then Mary, on beholding such performance arbitrary,
Suffused her eyes with saline drops from glands called lachrymary,
And all the pupils grew thereat tumultuously hilarious,
And speculated on the case with wild conjectures various.

"What makes the lamb love Mary so?" the scholars asked the teacher.
He paused a moment, then he tried to diagnose the creature.
"Oh pecus amorem Mary habit omnia temporum."
"Thanks, teacher dear," the scholars cried, and awe crept darkly o'er
'em.

_Unknown._

SAINTE MARGERIE

Slim feet than lilies tenderer,--
_Margerie!_
That scarce upbore the body of her,
Naked upon the stones they were;--
_C'est ca Sainte Margerie!_

White as a shroud the silken gown,--
_Margerie!_
That flowed from shoulder to a