THE FRANCES SHIMER QUARTERLY
Why I Am a Poet
She told me that she wished me to remain.
I stayed. My misery words can never frame.
She didn't scold but, Oh, her words brought fright
For punishment I rhyming lines must write.
Those lines must tell of mirth and tragic things,
Oh, how I wished then, that my thoughts had wings!
The thing is done! Observe the mirth, will you!
For tragedy please give me all that's due.
A Plaintive Tale
There was a young lady named Florence,
Who for rules had a special abhorrence:
The campus is small,
Yet for walks that is all,
For this erring young lady named Florence.
Said this erring young lady named Florence,
Who for rules had a special abhorrence:
"I want to go home,
Never more will I roam.
Tho' the Faculty tears flow in torrents."
A Second Pilgrim's Progress
(Grind has started out on a long journey to the lands of Honor and Achievement, saying good-bye to his jesting companions, Bluff-it, Don't Care, and Flip, who live in a very fertile green plain. Grind's road lies through a dull, gray country. He is just about to return to his companions, when he sees coming toward him a man, who shouts--)
"What cheer, what cheer, good friend? And lies your path through this pleasant valley?"
"Pleasant!" answered Grind bitterly, "I was only for turning back."
But the stranger spoke words of enouragement, saying "Do you see yonder those mountains of purple? When you reach them your journey will be ended, for in them lies the city of Knowledge."
