146
POEMS BY CLARA A. MERRILL
When e 'er the world seems going wrong
And you your courage lose;
Get out your "Poetry Machine"
And drive away the "blues."
And you your courage lose;
Get out your "Poetry Machine"
And drive away the "blues."
Just turn the crank—Sad thoughts will flee
As the cog-wheels whirr and buzz,—
There's naught can raise one's spirits up
Like the "Verse Mill" always does!
Let the rippling, rollicking rhymes roll out
With a clamor, a clash, and a clang;
Then punctuate each line with a laugh—
Be one of the "Jolly Gang!"
As the cog-wheels whirr and buzz,—
There's naught can raise one's spirits up
Like the "Verse Mill" always does!
Let the rippling, rollicking rhymes roll out
With a clamor, a clash, and a clang;
Then punctuate each line with a laugh—
Be one of the "Jolly Gang!"
There will steal a soothing sense supreme
As we linger 'neath the spell,—
As steal sweet strains from Seraphic Song
Far o'er the Ocean's swell
Or like soft breezes whispering
O'er the sun-kissed, mossy bank,—
With sweet, poetic fancies rife
If we but turn the crank!
As we linger 'neath the spell,—
As steal sweet strains from Seraphic Song
Far o'er the Ocean's swell
Or like soft breezes whispering
O'er the sun-kissed, mossy bank,—
With sweet, poetic fancies rife
If we but turn the crank!
