If Antoinette were sitting here before the cheery blaze, And she should ask me what I'd like to-morrow--day of days-- Would not my heart leap to my mouth, as any chap's would do, While leaning down to her pink ear, I softly whispered, "You!" If Antoinette were just to give me half a chance to say What gift of gifts I'd like the best, how long would I delay In taking her into my arms and keeping her there, too, While earnestly I answer her with one brief, heartfelt "You!" If Antoinette, dear Antoinette, were simply to suggest That question, don't you think that I would quickly do the rest? Well, you'd be wrong, because, alas! a year ago--or two-- She asked Jim what he wanted, and the lucky chap said "You!" THE NEIGHBORS For years and years I practiced-- Tum-tum, tum-tum, tee-tum! Pounding up and down the scale, White keys, black keys-- They all fell beneath my faithful hammering; And then--my pretty neighbor across the street Put in a player-piano that could tear a hole Through classics that I'd never learned even to dent! I was mad--hopping mad-- But I got even with her. (She was studying for the operatic stage.) I bought a phonograph--cheap-- And some records--not cheap. They made her gargling voice Sound like an imitation with a small i. Then we both laughed--and quit our exercises. To-day she's a moving picture actress, Using her big eyes in a financially-effective way, While I write things in prose or jingle Or verse that is free-on-bail. Sometimes I get by with it; and Sometimes she doesn't spoil a film-- Isn't the public lucky that we didn't Stick to our callings? UNCLE BILL'S IDEA I've figgered out that worryin' don't pay a little bit, Fer every feller's got to have some trouble in his day; An' wonderin' what's comin' next don't help to sidetrack hit-- You can't foretell afflictions, or stop 'em, thataway! It's better jest to take what's sent And stand it, ef you ain't content! Looks like to me that every one has got a large amount Of things to bear that he don't like, as through this life he goes; And though of happy days we're apt to lose the rightful count, Things even up before we die, as every old man knows. There ain't no great monopoly On sickness ner bad luck, I gee! We've got to stand our share of pain and meet a heap of sorrow; We've got to shoulder burdens that no one likes to tote; But worryin' about the load, and thinkin' of th' morrow Don't make it one mite easier, er cheerfuller, I note! Th' way to do is jest t' grin And hope for better times ag'in; "But I _can't_ grin!" some people say. Then don't--but bear it, anyway! 'LIZABETH ANN'S PICTURE