A

DOUBLE LIMERICK

LADY with pious intent

To pre-eminent people has sent

A request for a rhyme,

"Just a bit of your time For beneficent purposes spent."

So to offset the Teutonic rabies,
And help nurse the many sick babies,
I contribute this verse-

-Which could hardly be worse-
For all who refuse would be Gabys.

-REGINALD de Koven.

BOTHERATION

OW one suffers indignation

How

When a-trav'ling in vacation.

One's laid over at some station
Vainly waiting transportation.

"Train is late." No explanation
Satisfies interrogation.

You can swallow your vexation
Longing for
your destination.

Friends await with expectation
To join you in recreation,
Wond'ring why in all creation

You have "bust" the combination.

Hours lag by. Exasperation

Leaves no room for moderation.

Ev'ry form of objurgation
Fills the air with profanation.

Do not utter condemnation
On one who, losing veneration,
Forgets himself in perturbation
And uses words of desecration.

BOTHERATION-(Continued)

Depressed by dreary isolation,
Overcome by aggravation,

One sinks at last into stagnation
And loses pow'r for imprecation.

But Time at last brings termination
To good and evil situation.

The train arrives. A new elation
Soothes the heart with resignation.

Home again. The old location
Reached at last. What agitation!
Friend greets friend with animation.
For travel, this, the compensation.

-LYMAN J. Gage.

'S my stock of poetry is rather low, I thought it would not be a bad idea' to refer the matter to the children of the Orphan Asylum in which I am greatly interested, and enclose something by Hazel Wilfer, for your proposed book, hoping it will serve the purpose.

-ADOLPH LEWISOHN.

TO MY OLD HOME

(Dedicated to the old institution buildings of the H. S. G. S. at Broadway and 150th St., N. Y. C.)

No more thy loving form we see, old home;
Forever banished is thy flush of life,
No more thy grounds, thy halls, thy chambers ring
With laughter gay and merry childish shout.
Thy structure tall with mem'ries sweet endowed
By human hand, alas! is fast destroyed.

Grieve not because the hand of man, in toil
Progressive, tears thy breast and bids thee die.
So taketh God the life of man himself.

Thy structure gone, but mem'ries bid recall The happy moments lived within thy wall. The lordly Hudson flowing on to sea,

The Jersey hillside, dreamy, and the day When all old friends, now gone, together played.

TO MY OLD HOME-(Continued)

Ah! let them then in ruin lay thee low,

Let all thy beams in twain be cruelly torn. Long years thou hast not lived and served for naught.

Dear home, sweet flow'r, thou dost not die in vain,

Dear home, sweet flow'r, tho' faded, crushed and torn,

Forever on my heart shalt thou be pressed.