Page:Maryland, my Maryland, and other poems - Randall - 1908.pdf/132

 Mr. Ingall’s trumpet made all Kansas wheeze As Washington answered his cynical sneeze. The big bulk of Barnes was a rampart of might, But it sunk at the shock of this malefic sprite. East and West, West and East, with a roar and a rip, Crashed the thunderous footfall of Madame La Grippe!

You may hear that this imp is a myth at the South, But this is a pleasant romance of the mouth. By the river St. John, at a place they call Jax, This writer first felt the prelude of attacks. Very mild was the touch, but as he fared forth, A little more near to the stars of the North, It kicked and it cuffed and it swirled him about Until he resembled a famous dish-clout. And now, as he takes his medicinal nip, He bows out, most humbly, this Madame La Grippe!

The moral, perchance, is not proper to hide, It levels at once our poor human pride. We are all in the clutch of invisible foes, And the elements fill us with blessings and woes. We have brotherhood bonds to pay at our ease, In all the vast circle of health and disease. We are saved by the self-same Omnipotent Power, While none is too poor to escape from its dower; And little it matters, whatever may slip, So God’s buckler shield us from Satanic grip!