Fair insect! that with thread-like legs spread out, And blood-extracting bill and filmy wing, Dost murmur, as thou slowly sail’st about, In pitiless ears full many a plaintive thing, And tell how little our large veins would bleed, Would we but yield them to thy bitter need. One day, when Mr. Bryant discovered in a fresh number of the _Atlantic Monthly_ a so-called poem, which struck him as uncommonly absurd, he sat down and produced a travesty of it, which was much more effective in its ridicule than any sharper criticism could have been made. Here are the two in conjunction:— THE “ATLANTIC” POEM. Bellying earth no anchor throws Stouter than the breath that blows; Night and sorrow cling in vain; It must toss in day again. Hospital and battle-field, Myriad spots where fate is sealed, Brinks that crumble, sins that urge, Plunge again into the surge. How the purple breakers throw Round me their insatiate glow. Sweep my deck of hideous freight, Pour through fastening and grate. BRYANT’S TRAVESTY. Squint-eyed bacchanals at play, Keep a Lybian holiday, Leading trains of solemn apes, Tipsy with the blood of grapes. Forty furies—thirty more Than old Milton had before— Scattering sparkles from their hair, Swing their censers in the air. Toss the flaming goblet off, Heed not ocean’s windy scoff; Let him dash against the shore, Gape and grin, and sweat and roar. Since which time nothing has been heard of the Atlantic poet! Only those who were “behind the scenes,” in the office of the _Evening Post_, in the year 1863, knew the authorship of the burlesque—and the burlesque itself will never appear in the poet’s “collected works.” ON RECEIPT OF A RARE PIPE. I lifted off the lid with anxious care, Removed the wrappages, stripe after stripe, And when the hidden contents were laid bare, My first remark was: “Mercy, what a pipe!” A pipe of symmetry that matched its size, Mounted with metal bright—a sight to see— With the rich umber hue that smokers prize, Attesting both its age and pedigree. A pipe to make the Royal Friedrich jealous, Or the great Teufelsdröck with envy gripe! A man should hold some rank above his fellows To justify his smoking such a Pipe!