Tobogganing on Parnassus by Adams, Franklin P., 1881-1960

I've sought through a time-table's mazes, And sworn at the men who devise That scare and delusion of hopeless confusion, That intricate bundle of lies. But never a hunt that was harder, Be you or professor or dub, Than that ill-fated jest--I refer to the quest-- When the soap falls back of the tub

My paste pot escapes almost daily; My scissors I never can find; And I am the rotter who loses a blotter More often than if he were blind.

But sooner a myriad searches Than go to the worry and troub. That one little cake saponaceous can make When the soap slips under the tub-- Blank! Blank! When the soap slips under the tub.

The Flat-Hunter's Way

We don't get any too much light; It's pretty noisy, too, at that; The folks next door stay up all night; There's but one closet in the flat; The rent we pay is far from low; Our flat is small and in the rear; But we have looked around, and so We think we'll stay another year.

Our dining-room is pretty dark; Our kitchen's hot and very small; The "view" we get of Central Park We really do not get at all. The ceiling cracks and crumbles down Upon me while I'm working here-- But, after combing all the town, We think we'll stay another year.

We are not "handy" to the sub; Our hall-boy service is a joke; Our janitor's a foreign dub Who never does a thing but smoke Our landlord says he will not cut A cent from rent already dear; And so we sought for better--but We think we'll stay another year.

Birds and Bards

When Milton sang "O nightingale That on yon gloomy spray," The sonneteer whom we revere Lauded that birdie's lay.

While Keats's ode upon that bird Was limpid as the notes That, sweet and strong, were in the song Of Philomelian throats.

And Bryant's "To a Water-fowl!" Had praise in every line, And every word about the bird Impinged on the divine.

When Wordsworth did the skylark stuff, He praised the bird a few, And Shelley's ode sincerely showed He liked the skylark, too.

O Poets, if ye had but dwelt Upon a Harlem block, Fain would I read your poems sweet Upon the sparrows' "Peet! Peet! Peet!"

The sparrows that have built their nest Ten feet from where one takes one's rest, And 'gin their merry, blithesome song Each morning--quenchless, clear and strong Promptly at four o'clock.

A Wish

(An Apartmental Ditty.)

Mine be a flat beside the Hill; A vendor's cry shall soothe my ear A landlord shall present his bill At least a dozen times a year.

The tenor, oft, below my flat, Shall practise "Violets" and such; And in the area a cat Shall beat the band, the cars, and Dutch.

Around the neighbourhood shall be About a hundred thousand kids; And, eke in that vicinitee, Ten pianolas without lids.

And mornings, I suppose, by gosh, I'll be awakened prompt at seven, By ladies hanging up the wash Only a mile or so from heaven.

The Monument of Q.H.F.

AD MELPOMENEN

Horace: Book III, Ode 30.

_"Exegi monumentum aere perennius. Regalique situ pyramidum altius"_

Look you, the monument I have erected High as the pyramids, royal, sublime, During as brass--it shall not be affected E'en by the elements coupled with Time.