The Arkansaw traveler., 1886-03-20
coz. DOMAIN STRUCK AT LAST.
IP. ponan, iu Bloomington EYe.l

r. OOnan, lu DloOhlnHtOn Eye.J
 My exquisite Angelicianal Her face, her form Get out, Raphaell Hoot, Angelol Scat, you Titan l You may daub on canvas, and hammer and peck on rock, till your esophaguses turn to bamboo fishing poles, till your hair turns to feathers, and your nails to pruning hooks, and your best performance will look, beside her, like painted Jezabel beside Madonna, like dogfennel beside lily or an orange blossom. Her face, her face and forml Out with you, Venus of Medicil Get down in the dust and be ashamed of yourself. You are pretty good looking, but you can't come in. Complexion as fair as the dawn of sum- mer morning-lilies, and roses and peach bloom combined! Eyes that drive the stars of heaven bliad with envy. Lashes more gloriously silken than ever fringed the lids of Oriental Houri. Hair in which ten thousand clouded sunbeams seemed to nestle, darkly bright, wavy as the tresses of the tasseled corn, fine as gossamer threads, but forming network which scores of masculine strugglers have found strong as the green withes that bound Delilah's Samson. Her eyes, her eyes! Oh, Cupid, you little cuss, you may as we'll throw away your arrows, and break your bow. Your day is over. Go to killing frogs for living. Your sharpest darts are as blunt as kan- garoo's tail. or an average senator's wits. Stink off, you little gizzard-splitting imp, slnk of, and shut yourself up in a cab bage-head. Her eyes, her glorious eyes neak into your holes, you little twink ling stars go into your holes and pull your holes in after you Never, never dare to try to sparkle or glitter again Pull the blue gingham apron of the sky over your pale, dim little phizzes, and keep dark. You can shine only when her eyes are yelled. Oh, her eyes, her eyesl Mother of Judas! am, yes, yes, Pm struck Struck by radiant and royal little damsel, who won't be my val entine. And then her handl That tiay, tapering, queenly little manus. Formed to do acts of love, and to render them ten-fold sweeter by coming from such source. That fairy hand-formed to ol,ng to manly arnl, and to nerve it by less heroism and devotion; formed to clasp in sweetest prayer that ever angel stopped from heaven to hear. That witchiag hand-that index to point my soul to glory or despair-it haunts me, haunts me, still. Oh, that l were her dainty kid, or rat or dog skin glove that might press those finger tips forever more. An. ah-ah, her waistl Sylphlike, slender. Oh, tell me not of wasp or fairy Her waist, comedy as lime tree among the rough oaks, surpasses far in delicacy that of any wasp that ever hung nest upon elm-of any fairy eff that ever ,ripped it to the music of midnight moon- beams tricking through the dark orange groves in fair Seville or Italy. And oh- oh-oh, her footl Her high-born, arched, ecstatitying little foot Modesty, bash. fullness, sheepfacedness, preserve me. faint, l faint I'm struck, oh, I'm struckl Struck by cruel, coquettish little damsel who won't be my valentine. The daintiest, ravishingist, enchantingist ot pedals terrestrial. In visions of the night, before my moon-struck eyes, float in mary dance, long, unceasing whirl of tiny gaiter boots. I'm bewitched, Pm be-galter-booted. Oh, star of the stricken hearted, beam softly down upon mel For I'm struck Hurly burly, ringed, streaked and striped state of pleasure and pain, of bliss and anguish, of uncertainty and of doubt, contradiction and truth, despondency and hope, of ecs- tasy and of despair, endure thee. For I'm s,ruckl Oh, chambermaid of Juno s ruckl S,ru-uckl Sru.u-ck by re. morseless, flirty, peerless young dansel, who won't be my valentine, and the first six letters of her name are; but hardly think I'll tell.