I most admired an ancient bed, With ornate carvings at its head,-- A massive frame of dingy oak, Whose curious size and mould bespoke Prodigious age. "How much?" I cried. "Ein tousand gildens," Hans replied; And then the honest Dutchman said A king once owned that glorious bed,-- King Fritz der Foorst, of blessed fame, Had owned and slept within the same! Then long I stood and mutely gazed, By reminiscent splendors dazed, And I had bought it right away, Had I the wherewithal to pay. But, lacking of the needed pelf, I thus discoursed within myself: "O happy Holland! where's the bliss That can approximate to this Possession of the rare antique Which maniacs hanker for and seek? _My_ native land is full of stuff That's good, but is not old enough. Alas! it has no oaken beds Wherein have slumbered royal heads, No relic on whose face we see The proof of grand antiquity." Thus reasoned I a goodly spell Until, perchance, my vision fell Upon a trademark at the head Of Fritz der Foorst's old oaken bed,-- A rampant wolverine, and round This strange device these words I found: "Patent Antique. Birkey & Gay, Grand Rapids, Michigan, U. S. A." At present I'm not saying much About the simple, guileless Dutch; And as it were a loathsome spot I keep away from Kalverstraat, Determined when I want a bed In which hath slept a royal head I'll patronize no middleman, But deal direct with Michigan. TO THE PASSING SAINT. AS to-night you came your way, Bearing earthward heavenly joy, Tell me, O dear saint, I pray, Did you see my little boy? By some fairer voice beguiled, Once he wandered from my sight; He is such a little child, He should have my love this night. It has been so many a year,-- Oh, so many a year since then! Yet he was so very dear, Surely he will come again. If upon your way you see One whose beauty is divine, Will you send him back to me? He is lost, and he is mine. Tell him that his little chair Nestles where the sunbeams meet, That the shoes he used to wear Yearn to kiss his dimpled feet. Tell him of each pretty toy That was wont to share his glee; Maybe that will bring my boy Back to them and back to me.