Across the sands of Syria,
Or possibly Algeria,
Or some benighted neighborhood of barrenness and drouth,
There came the Prophet Samu-u-el
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This is the land that we love; here our fathers found refuge,
Here are the grooves of their plows and the mounds of their graves;
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The Great Tyrannosaurus
Lived centuries ago;
Through marshes wet and porous
He rambled to and fro.
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The General came in a new tin hat
To the shell-torn front where the war was at;
With a faithful Aide at his good right hand
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In life there's naught
That's true, but Thought;
The Things we build on do but seem,
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What one approves,
another scorns,
and thus
his nature each discloses.
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The primitive Pithecanthropus erectus,
With whom the ethnologists rightly connect us,
Defended his own
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On order that must be obeyed
I sing of a dear little maid;
A mirthfully serious,
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The three-toed tree-toad
Sings his sweet ode
To the moon;
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I saw a Melancholy Wasp
Upon a Purple Clover Knosp,
Who wept, 'The Poets do me Wrong,
Excluding me from Noble Song-
...