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A Description
In order that much may be said. I sing of a dear little maid — A mirthfully serious, Sober, delirious, Gently imperious Maid.
Now first we'll consider her eyes Alike to color and size — Her winkable, blinkable, Merrily twinkable, Simply unthinkable Eyes.
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Forbear to dismiss with a shrug, Her nose, undeniably pug — Her turn up like thisable, Strictly permissible, Urgently kissable Pug.
Now moving a point to the south, We come to an actual mouth — A mainly melliferous, Coral pearliferous, Argumentiferous Mouth.
Now she's got a wonderful chin, Connecting the dimples within — A hardy reliable, Never defiable, True undeniable Chin.
We'll turn our attention to hair Of a color so beautiful and rare — Her tendrilly curlative, TUmbly and whirlative, Super-superlative Hair.
By all that is fair it appears, We've nearly forgotten her ears — Her highly respectable, Never neglectable, Always delectable Ears.
And, last, we'll consider herself,
That blithe little gypsy and elf—
Her absence deplorable,
Want to see moreable,
Wholly adorable
Self.
Invitation
By MAUDE JOHNSON
Come from the crowded thorofare apart
And rest awhile; Let slip Care's weary load, give Fancy rein, Rejoicing, smile. Smile, for the Magic Screen before you glows
With teeming life: The tragedies of age, the loves of youth, Ambition's strife, The pomps of kings, the toil of peasant years,
All that's between — Your ev'ry mood, in one brief hour rehearsed, Upon the screen.
OF*
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