Iowa capitol reporter. [volume] (Iowa City, Iowa) 1841-1855, 1848-05-24
CITY Philosophy: or Bees slnd
y Birds VS. Bugs. .aeij8E

i CITY Philosophy: or Bees and
ai Birds VS. Bugs. ,t@is'8s
How to make ones selfhappy by adopting the
principle Of Reynard, of sour-grape memory, in
anticipation of the tim. when pecuniary devils
shall debar the humble from rural delights.
Poets may tell US of flower clad bowers,
Z nd shady groves and hs1cyon hours;
Of quiet hooks
and babbling brooks
And simple fish to be caught with hooks,
OF dreams beneath some vide spread tree,
BY streams hatloiterinay seek the sea,
Huggng their banks witt gurgling song
And kissing each as theymove along.
They may say
You can lay
The livelong day,
THAT is, you have tirn that way,)
Beside some little fresh water bay
And see DER its surface he dragon fly play,
And list to the mill sounding far away,
Or the farmer boys singing while making hay,
Or the bees as they rifle he flowers gay,
Or the birds on the spray
As they tune their lay
Shaded by trees from tn. warm SUMS ray:
They may by their story
Make each nympi Of the dairy
A, being all glory,
An angel or fairy
With eyes brightly shining
As diamonds do glow,
With curls gaily twning
O'er neck white Is snow;
With grace in her form
And health in her cheek,
With heart beating warm
That each act dotl bespeak;
Acreature all heaven
With no faint Of sin,
A thing to earth given
That 'twere heaven TO win;
They may sing if they please
OF the teeming trees
Yielding their fruit to the farmers will,
ofthe sports of the field
Which rare work do yield
Where tie cracking gun is heard "to kill"
They may sum up the joys Of a country life,
They may rail at the cty's noise and strife,
Or scenes ofthe town with trouble rife;
BUT:
There are odious bugs in fairy bowers,
They dwell in the trees and DIV ell in the flowers;
There are bugs in The earth, bugs in the air,
There are bugs in the water and every where;
You may throw yourself on the ground along
TO list to the 6re-bird's glorious song,
You may hear it and dream, & dream as you hear,
And wake up at last with bug in your ear;
You may roam if you will by the crystal brook,
To tempt the fish with deceiving hook,
You may drag your line from morn till night
And be oltener getting bit than bite;
You may plunge in depths Of TIE forest shade,
You may mount the bill or roam the glade,
In bush or brake, in dingle or dell,
There are bugs, there are bugs, more than can
tell;
And the rural Venus warmly portrayed,
In colors drawn from the poets heart,
May prove at best but some country maid,
Driving her fathers market cart;
With cheeks burnt red by summer sun,
With coarse brown hair and freckled brow,
Whose stalwart arm might furrow run
The livelong day behind the plough.
But were it not SO; were every grace
As vivid as he describes in his fair,
IT'S something peculiar TO no cline or place,
But woman's own attribute every where.
Through the forest and over the hin,
You drag your gun from morn till night,
Sometimes seeing bid to kill
That is less in danger from shot and fright;
Wading the brook and washed n the knees,
Laden with mul'itudinous freight;
Your game bag pIenished with bread and cheese
Mingling in with worms for bait;
There's an invite comes from the cooling west
That calls to you meath the trees to rest,
You lare your brow to the genial air
And inhale the perfumes waited there,
You dream not of wo, ys ~
There's heavenly glow
Cast all over the world below;
When humming is heard, ant. with terrible din
The musquitos their afternoon meal begin,
And the way they pick at you is sim!
Punching your body with myriad holes
In vain is your cry OBJECT out, LEss your soulp
They heed no more
Your cries so sore
Than they would a yearling were he to roar!
You mark just now the waning sun
And shoulder again your rusty gun;
Bit upon face and bit uponneck,
What can your holneward speed now cheek?
You traverse mile and REAL to mind Il. ..,s
You have left your game bag far behisd; ,.s
Then back you plod with weary pace, v.s
Perhaps like school boy "loose the place.
Finding the bag beneath tie trees, d a
But the black ants eating your bread and cheese.
Homeward bound! homeward bound! "a
hoped and blessed when found.
Give me the city-tbe noisy MART s't.
The cry Of the man with the charcoal cart; ltji
The oysternan's note when night is still, ss.
More plaintive than song d whnppoorwill;
Sleeping at morn as my pleasure incline,
Dining at two as christian should dine,
Sitting up an hour or so after tea, .tfs i
eit Give me these. il you please, b is 4 s
And country life 60 to thunder for me.
A SieN.-The following is the result
IF the vote taken on board the steamer Pa
l. - 49, g.. ca DE- Il.