The new North-west. [volume] (Deer Lodge, Mont.) 1869-1897, 1881-10-14
THE POETRY or PARODY.
Gentiep.en's Magazine.

mortimer collins quizzical reprouncLioh oI
q truly Swinburnian mete
Take endivc-like love, Ii Is bitter;
Take beet-for, like love, 1t IL red;
Crisp leaf of the lettuce shall glitter,
And cress from the rivulet's bed;
Anchovies, foam-born, like the lady
Whose beauty has maddened this bard !;
And olives from groves that are shady:
And eggs-boil 'em hard.
Here again Is Lewis Carroll's adaptation
Of meter no less Swinburnian:
And I whispered. /" guess
The sweetest secret thou keepest,
And the dainty distress
That thou wistfully weepest;
And the question IL, License or banns p
though undoubtedly banns are the cheapest.
Then her white hand clasped,
And with kisses crowned 1t,
But she glared as she gasped,
And she muttered, "Confound 81"
Or at least 1T was something like that, but the
noise Of the omnibus drowned it.
This, too, from an old number of Once a
Week, is not so bad:
If 1t be but dream or vision,
The life that Is after the grave,
The wall of the metaphysician
Amid bright intellectual fiainbeaux
/ shall find no light clearer than thee,
o sable and sensual Sambo.
The servant Of me!
For a sufficient expose of the faults Of
Miss Ingelow's poetic style, we have to 60
again to Mr.. Calverley, who has effected this
purpose in one of the most successful of his
pieces:
In moss-prankt dells which the sunbeams
land heaven it knoweth what they mean !;
Meaning, however, Is no great natter,
Where woods are atremble, with writs
atween;
Through Gods own heather we wonn'd to-
gether,
and my Willie 70 love, my love-;
Ineed hardly remark 1t was glorious weather,
And fiitterbats wayer'd slow, above;
Boats were courtesying, rising, bowling,
boats In that climate are 80 polite),
And sands were ribbon of green endowing,
And D the sundazzle on bark and hight.
Through the rare red heather we danced
together
70, love, my Willie) and smelt for flowers;
1 must mention again, 1t was gorgeous
weather,
Rhymes are SO scarce In this world of ours.
or wordsworth's ave are Seven," in
comparably the best parody Is Mr.. II. 3.
Leigh's-unhappily too long to quote In full:
Said ], What IL it makes you bad?
How many apples have you had?"
She answered: "Only Seven"
And are you sure you took no more,
Ny little maid ?" quoth /.
"Oh, please, sir, mother gave me four,
But they were in piei"
eff that's the case" I stammered out,
"Of course you've had eleven"
The maiden answered with pout:
IL Amt had more nor seven"
When Mr.. Tennyson Is reached, we be-
come somewhat embarrassed by the riches
in the way of parody which have accumu-
lated around certain of his poems. Of
. Home They Brought Her Warrior Dead"
/ know at least two perfectly excellent tray-
esties-namely, those by Shirley Brooks and
Mr.. Sawyer-and there may be more. Shirley
Brooks may be found in the volume Of bis
collected "Wit and Humor." Mr.. Saw
yer's runs:
Home they brought her sailor son,
Grown man across the sea-
Tall and broad, and black of beard,
And hoarse OF voice NJ man may be.
Hand to shake and mouth to kiss,
Both he offered ere he spoke;
But she said, "What man IL this
Come to play a sorry joke ?"
Then they praised him-calld him "smart,
"Tightest lad that ever Slept"
But her son she did not know.
And she neither smiled nor wept.
Rose, nurse of ninety years,
Set pigeon-pie In sight;
She saw him eat" IT'S he tits he"
She knew him by his appetite!