Rhapsody by L. Frank Baum
Author of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, The Woggle-Bug Book, The Boy Fortune Hunters in the South Seas, etc.
Originally published September 1, 1907.
[L. Frank Baum, after his earliest successes as an author, spent several summers with his wife Maud and their four sons in their cottage at the Lake Michigan resort of Macatawa not far from Holland, Michigan.]
WRITTEN FOR THE [Grand Rapids, Michican, Sunday] HERALD.
Fair Macatawa, let me fling
My praises in thy face, and sing
A tribute so deserved, mayhap
All men to nestle in thy lap
Will long, and be inspired with zest
To rest their heads upon thy breast!
This may be metaphoric, yet
The nestle and the rest you bet
Your badge belong no place but here -
And here you'll find them, never fear.
I beg to ask where else you'll find
A summer haven that's designed
So perfectly to charm mankind
And tone the liver, heart and mind?
Where else is every nerve relaxed
And every lung-cell overtaxed
To breathe the ozone laden breeze
That gives you sleep whene'er you please?
Where else do jaunty villas peep
From leafy bowers across the deep
Expense of Michigan, who soaks
With crystal tears the bathing-folks?
Where else does fickle appetite
Aspire to reach a dizzy height
In order that it may deplete
Your purse to feed it stuff to eat?
Where else in all the world's expanse
Do sunsets get so good a chance
To spread themselves and make us cry:
"They've spilled a paint-shop in the sky?"
Where else can maidens get so wet
When wearing bathing-suits? and yet
Where else is humor half so dry
Or wit and wisdom half so spry?
Where else do bridge fiends congregate
So thickly, or sit up so late?
Where else do pretty wives despise
The art of making goo-goo eyes
And husbands their own wires adore
Exclusively - and nothing more?
Where else do lovers seek the trail
Through woodland glens, and never fail
To cling together at all cost
To keep themselves from getting lost?
Where else are peaches double price
Because they taste so mighty nice?
Where else are peas so luscious sweet
Or chickens half so good to eat?
Where else are fishes so polite
That on your hook they always bite?
Where else do cottagers dictate
The cost of lights, the water rate.
And run the whole shebang just right
To make the sore-heads rave and fight?
Where else, in short, is found so nice
An imitation paradise?
Happy the boy or girl who knows
This land of rainbows, beaux and bows,
Where every night there is a chance
To revel in the merry dance;
Where motor boats are thick as bees
And all can mote whene'er they please;
Where all is love and peace and joy
Without a 'skeeter to annoy
Or sign of any carking care
To be discovered anywhere.
On you, dear Mac., where stands my shack,
I'll ne'er by work or deed go back;
But ever will I drool they praise
And love thee well for all my days.
THE FORGETFUL POET
By Ruth Plumly Thompson
Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, October 21, 1917.
A Handful of Riddles
What Have We Here?
What a goat's sometimes called
I can spread on my bread,
Or part of a door will
Do nicely instead.
A part of my nose
I can cross, I suppose,
And part of my eye I could throw,
If I chose.
While part of my hands
Grow in tropical lands,
And part of my fingers
All building demands!
Where is the Flowery Kingdom and what do we mean when we say The Tight Little Island?
Copyright © 2005 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.
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