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The Bad Poet at His Best
Entrapped inside a submarine,
With death approaching on the scene,
The crew compose their minds to dice,
More for the Pleasure than the Vice.
CONGRESSMAN H. C. CAN FIELD: On the LOSS of
U.S. Submarine S4
And now, kind friends, what I have wrote,
I hope you will pass o'er,
And not criticize as some have done
Hitherto hercbefore.
JULIA MOORE: The Sweet Singer of Michigan
CHECK TO SONG
I dream'd that I walk'd in Italy
When the day was going down,
By a water that silently wander'd by
Thro' an old dim-lighted town,
Till I came to a palace fair to sec.
Wide open the windows were
My love at a window sat; and she
Beckon'd nic up the stair... .
When I came to the little rose-colour'd room,
From the curtains out flew a bat.
The window was open: and in the gloom
My love at the window sat.
She sat with her guitar on her knee,
But she was not singing a note,
For someone had drawn (ah, who could it be?)
A knife across her throat.
OWEN MEREDITH
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