Q’s for the Queerness we Stand-patters feel When Progressive young Cubies start Art reformation. They’re strong on Initiative, praise the Square Deal: “Though the Cubic is best!” they aggressively squeal; “Painting things as you see them is rank deformation!” --Q’s for the Queerness we Stand-patters feel. [Illustration: Q] R is for Reason and poor old Reality, Once in the fashion, but now obsolete, Banished forever with grim actuality. Now the sole law is one’s own personality-- Find its Cube Root and you have it complete. --R is for Reason and poor old Reality. [Illustration: R] S is for Schamberg’s fair dame at her ’phone, Conversing with G. Stein, the Futurist scribe. The Cubies, eavesdropping, hear Gertrude bemoan: “This one feeling many far seeming alone, The bluer the bliss the redder the bribe!” --S is for Schamberg’s fair dame at her ’phone. [Illustration: S] T’s for the Type of Tree Chabaud’s erected. The Cubies insist it’s as useful as fair For a game that they play when they’re feeling dejected, (A use which not every one would have detected,) Lassoing the branches with rings of their hair. --T’s for the Type of Tree Chabaud’s erected. [Illustration: T] U’s for the Union so Utterly Useless Uniting the members that make up the whole. Against it the Cubies wage war that is truceless: “Such rage for convention,” they cry, “is excuseless! Away with cohesion, and set free the Soul!” --U’s for the Union so Utterly Useless. [Illustration: U] V is for Villon’s musicianly lady (With charm evanescent and Visage remote.) The picnics he gives in his orchards so shady Account for his hit with the Cubes. I’m afraid he Will spoil them completely for plain table d’hôte. --V is for Villon’s musicianly lady. [Illustration: V] W’s for Woolworth, the building so stable, (Erected with nickels and dimes by us all,) Which Cubies paint writhing from cellar to gable, Distinctly resembling the Tower of Babel, Some decades ago, just preceding its fall. --W’s for Woolworth, the building so stable. [Illustration: W] X is the Xit, Xtremely alluring When Cubies invite us to study their Art; And the Xquisite pain we are sadly enduring The while they protest, with an air reassuring: “Of course this is merely a diffident _start_!” --X is the Xit, Xtremely alluring. [Illustration: X] Y’s for the Yawn overcoming each Cubie At sight of a painting not done in his style: “If a man doesn’t use all the colors, from ruby To sapphire and emerald and topaz--the booby!-- To look at _his_ canvas is not worth one’s while!” --Y’s for the Yawn overcoming each Cubie. [Illustration: Y]