The Bee's Bayonet (a Little Honey and a Little Sting): Camouflage in Word PaintingWatrous, Edwin Alfred
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The Bee's Bayonet (a Little Honey and a Little Sting): Camouflage in Word Painting
Watrous, Edwin Alfred
American poetry -- 20th century
Come, Comrades, gather 'round the festal board
And quaff the sparkling Water from the gourd!
_This_ is the drink that Adam's Tribe imbibed
Before the Wines of Gath were diatribed.
(Methinks some other brand was drunk by Cain
The day that Abel ruthlessly was slain.)
And won, against all other potions there,
The First White Ribbon at the Gaza Fair.
You'll never know, until you take a sip
Its power to soothe, and cool the fevered lip.
Had Noah _stuck to_ water he would shine
As undisputed Master of the Brine.
The Water-wagon that he launched, at first
Steered Noah straight but didn't cure his thirst:
So when he _spoke_ the Ararat Café
He soon fell off,--his rudder washed away.
But wallward turn the picture you're beholding
And hang more cheerful paintings on the moulding!
Behold a _watercolor_ of eclat!
This, fair Rebecca had the skill to _draw_:
She stands beside the well and plies the sweep,
While sweat and blushes o'er her features creep.
Such grace and poise, such strength and skill,
Such sweeping gestures and unbending will
Are indices of Abstinence complete;
(We can't abstain from loving you, Petite!)
Upon her head she rests the dripping urn
And goes straight home: she doesn't _dare_ to turn!
Don't stumble, Miss! Or suffer teasing boys
To cause derangement of your equipoise!
But keep your head and waver not at all
Lest you be deluged by the waterfall!
So daily to the pool Rebecca strayed
And drank the water, when she didn't wade:
And thus her framework waxed like iron; I trust
'Twas ne'er assailed or undermined by rust.
So, fill the gourd and pass it to your friend!
It's Safety First and safety to the end.
No headaches lurk within, no tinge of sorrow,
No dark forebodings or remorse to-morrow!
And furthermore, it isn't hard to take:
If you've not tried it, _do_, for Mercy's sake!
Behold the Oaken Bucket, hanging high,
By Bards and Singers lauded to the sky.
It never touched, in all its useful days,
A thing but water. Here fair Psyche plays
Beside the spring that mirrors all her graces.
(Would you object to _water in_ such cases?)
Now mark the fate befalling Jack and Jill
Because they slipped and let the water spill;
And see poor Tantalus for water crying,
Thus punished for his sins,--athirst and dying!
And note this "Titian," called "The Drunkard's Fate,"
In which the crimson hues predominate.
He holds the lamp-post in his close embrace
And has a package from Pat Murphy's place
To carry home. His eyes are red and dim,
So close the bar and turn the hose on him!
This drink was ever priceless, yet it's free;
The Source and Fountain of Sobriety;
And so we offer without bar or price
Enough of THIS to put your thirst on ice.
So drink to WATER, while the billows swell:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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