Henry Cuyler Bunner, one of our most delightful writers of light verse, was born at Oswego, New York, in 1855. At twenty-two he was appointed editor of _Puck_ (then the most prominent of comic weeklies), a position which he held until his death. For more than ten years he wrote almost all the rhymed contributions to that journal—to say nothing of quantities of short stories (his _Short Sixes_, first published in 1890, are still well-known), prose paragraphs, topical parodies, editorials, etc. Like Field, the artist was finally buried in the journalist; but, unlike him, Bunner kept the work of the serious poet separate from that of the manufacturer of satiric trifles. Yet, in spite of certain exquisite fragments in _Airs from Arcady_ (1884) and _Rowen: Second Crop Songs_ (1892), Bunner is likely to be remembered chiefly for his flippant _vers de société_, his skilful and grave absurdities. “Behold the Deeds!” is a splendid example of Bunner’s wit and technical ingenuity. It is a burlesque of the old ballads in the guise of a Chant-Royal, one of the strictest and most difficult of the French forms. Another of his uncollected comic pieces (“Shake, Mulleary and Go-ethe”) owes its origin to the fact that a certain Western poet (Joaquin Miller) had composed a poem in which the name of the author of “Faust” was made to rhyme with “teeth.” Bunner not only adopted this rhyme, but carried the broad satire further by mispronouncing Molière, achieving one of his happiest compositions. Bunner’s was, at best, an artificial world, a world of graceful compliments, polite evasions, rhymed _billets doux_, with light sighs and lighter laughter tinkling among the tea-cups. Bunner died, in New Jersey, in 1896. SHAKE, MULLEARY AND GO-ETHE I have a bookcase, which is what Many much better men have not. There are no books inside, for books, I am afraid, might spoil its looks. But I’ve three busts, all second-hand, Upon the top. You understand I could not put them underneath— Shake, Mulleary and Go-ethe. Shake was a dramatist of note; He lived by writing things to quote. He long ago put on his shroud; Some of his works are rather loud. His bald-spot’s dusty, I suppose. I know there’s dust upon his nose. I’ll have to give each nose a sheath— Shake, Mulleary and Go-ethe.