A little book of tribune verse A number of hitherto uncollected poems, grave and gay |
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RETURN OF THE EDITORS. |
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 | A little book of tribune verse |  |
206
RETURN OF THE EDITORS.
How changed they are in form and face
Since last we saw them take the train
Bound for a distant naughty place
Beyond the river, hill and plain.
Since last we saw them take the train
Bound for a distant naughty place
Beyond the river, hill and plain.
Why, then they were as fresh and gay
As lambkins frisking on the lea,
But as we welcome them to-day
We wonder how such change can be.
As lambkins frisking on the lea,
But as we welcome them to-day
We wonder how such change can be.
Their eyes are sunken, bleared and red,
Their cheeks are ghastly, pale as death,
Their lips are bloodless as the dead,
A dark brown odor is their breath.
Their cheeks are ghastly, pale as death,
Their lips are bloodless as the dead,
A dark brown odor is their breath.
They totter for they cannot walk,
They grimace, for they cannot smile,
They sputter (for they cannot talk)
Like dreary mental wrecks the while.
They grimace, for they cannot smile,
They sputter (for they cannot talk)
Like dreary mental wrecks the while.
Was it for this we sent our pride,
Our brilliant Colorado Press,
Down to the lake's tumultuous side
For sucker waters to caress?
Our brilliant Colorado Press,
Down to the lake's tumultuous side
For sucker waters to caress?
207
We gave them men, and lo! we find
They send us back a driveling crew,
Sans all they had of meat and mind,
And oh! what's worse, sans money, too.
They send us back a driveling crew,
Sans all they had of meat and mind,
And oh! what's worse, sans money, too.
| A little book of tribune verse | |