Like caps the children wear for sport. And vainer than he well could say He called gay Mab his “pride and stay,” With pompous speeches to the court. They journeyed home, made young indeed, But opening the book of song Each poem looked so deep and long They could not bear to start to read. THE SONG OF THE STURDY SNAILS Gristly bare-bone fingers On my window-pane-- The drumbeat of a ghost Louder than the rain! Oh frail, storm-shaken hut-- No candle, not a spark Of fire within the grate. Oh the lonely dark! Trembling by the window I watched the lightning flash And saw the little villains Upon the outer sash And other small musicians Upon the window-pane-- Garden snails, a-dragging Their shells amid the rain! The thunder blew away. My happiness began. Over the dripping darkness Rills of moonlight ran. In the silence rich The scratching of the shells Became a crooning music A lazy peal of bells. So fearless in the night My sluggard brothers bold! Your fancies swift and glowing; Your footsteps slow and cold! My happy beggar-brothers Tuning all together, Playing on the pane Praise of stormy weather! Upon a ragged pillow At last I laid my head And watched the sparkling window And the wan light on my bed. Through the glass came flying Dream snails, with leafy wings-- Glided on the moonbeams-- And all the snails were kings! With crowns of pollen yellow And eyes of firefly gold Behold--to crooning music Their coiling wings unrolled! These tiny kings I saw Reigning over white Bisque jars of fairy flowers In sturdy proud delight. These jars in fairyland Await good snails that keep Vigils on the windows Of beggars fast asleep. ANOTHER WORD ON THE SCIENTIFIC ASPIRATION “There’s machinery in the butterfly. There’s a mainspring to the bee. There’s hydraulics to a daisy And contraptions to a tree. “If we could see the birdie That makes the chirping sound With psycho-analytic eyes, And x ray, scientific eyes, We could see the wheels go round.” _And I hope all men Who think like this Will soon lie Underground._ DANCING FOR A PRIZE