Page:Life of John Boyle O'Reilly.djvu/285

Rh In mind and body,—doctor, artist, wit. Author and politician,—he, and she, and it!" "Enough!" they shouted: "Harris, take the bun!" And all were sorry when his year was done.

Then with the confidence of years and looks. The Club cried gayly: "We've had lots of books, And beards, and piety, and science. Now— We want a ruler with ambrosial brow— A jovial tra-la-la! A débonnaire— A handsome blue-eyed boy with yellow hair!"

And forth stepped Babbitt, with a little laugh, And blushed to feel the gavel's rounded staff. He scored a high success—a fairy's wand. The bright good nature of our handsome blonde.

And then the Club cried: "Go; we make no test. They all are fit to rule. Give us a rest!" So went they out, committee-like, to find A likely candidate with restful mind. They found him, weeping, hand on graceful hip. Because a fly had bit a lily's lip.

They cheered him up, and bade him lift his eye: "Nay, nay," he said, "I look not at the sky On unæsthetic week-days! Go your way; I seek a plaintive soul! Alack and well-a-day!"

They heard no more, but seized him as a prize, And bore him clubwards, heeding not his cries. Behold him now still looking in his glass. Narcissus-like, not Bacchus; and, "Alas!" He sighs betimes, "I would my lady were Sitting with me upon this weary chair!"

And so we fill the album and the mind With jokes all simple, faces true and kind. And so the years go on and we grow old; These are our pleasant tales to be retold. These in our little life will have large place. And fool is he who wipes out jest or face. Men love too seldom in their three-score years, And each must bear his burden, dry his tears; But when the harvest smiles, let us be wise And garner friends and flowery memories.