Back Aa

Wit and Humor of America, The Vol 04

Close

<h2>DESOLATION[1]</h2> <h3>BY TOM MASSON</h3> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> Somewhat back from the village street Stands the old-fashioned country seat. Across its antique portico Tall poplar trees their shadows throw. And there throughout the livelong day, Jemima plays the pi-a-na. Do, re, mi, Mi, re, do. </div> <div class="stanza"> In the front parlor, there it stands, And there Jemima plies her hands, While her papa beneath his cloak, Mutters and groans: "This is no joke!" And swears to himself and sighs, alas! With sorrowful voice to all who pass. Do, re, mi, Mi, re, do. </div> <div class="stanza"> Through days of death and days of birth She plays as if she owned the earth. Through every swift vicissitude She drums as if it did her good, And still she sits from morn till night And plunks away with main and might, Do, re, mi, Mi, re, do. </div> <div class="stanza"> In that mansion used to be Free-hearted hospitality; But that was many years before Jemima monkeyed with the score. When she began her daily plunk, Into their graves the neighbors sunk. Do, re, mi, Mi, re, do. </div> <div class="stanza"> To other worlds they've long since fled, All thankful that they're safely dead. They stood the racket while alive Until Jemima rose at five. And then they laid their burdens down, And one and all they skipped the town. Do, re, mi, Mi, re, do. </div> </div> <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2