She switched off on Theocritus,
And talked about Democritus;
And his most ardent passion balked,
And talked and talked and talked and talked.
He begged her to become his own;
She talked of ether and ozone,
And painted yellow poodles on
Her brother's razor hone;
Then talked of Noah and Neb'chadnezzar,
And Timon and Tiglath-pileser--
While he at her heart portals knocked,
She talked and talked and talked and talked!
He bent in love's tempestuous gale,
She talked of strata and of shale,
And worked magenta poppies on
Her mother's water pail;
And while he talked of passion's power,
She amplified on Schopenhauer--
A pistol flashed: he's dead! Unshocked,
She talked and talked and talked and talked!
GRANDMA KEELER GETS GRANDPA READY FOR SUNDAY-SCHOOL
BY SARAH P. McLEAN GREENE
Sunday morning nothing arose in Wallencamp save the sun.
At least, that celestial orb had long forgotten all the roseate flaming
of his youth, in an honest, straightforward march through the heavens,
ere the first signs of smoke came curling lazily up from the Wallencamp
chimneys.
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