Morris tribune. [volume] (Morris, Minn.) 1880-2000, 1910-08-05
FOR AUGUST
Copyright 1910 By C. H RIETH)

Sounding the depths
OF the opaline sky
And watching the clouds
Floating dreamily by.
Last year,
Alack and alas
Beverly, Mass.
This year,
Sycamore Hill,
Strenuous still,
And no one complaining
For want of thrill,
Shindy and sass
just as certain as fate
Beverly, Mass.
Can dream early or late,
Snore as it pleases
And snooze as it will
This year,
Sycamore Hill.
Of August it may first be said, its
name is from Augustus, whom men
have lkened unto Ted, perhaps with
out injustice. He made the world go
round about as many times minute,
and the news was always dull without
the great Augustus in it.
He had his Ananias Club for liars
and for takers, and he loved to sail
his little tub among the Roman break
ers. He counted peace sort of
plague, and never did pursue it, but
let it rally at The Hague, and you
couldn't beat him to it.
He preached about the same old
things that Teddy has been preaching,
and most of Rome's awakenings re-
suited from his teaching. He battled
hotly for the right, and valiantly irr-
bued it, and the stork could not at
tempt to light but what he up and
shooed it.
There was, however, one affair to
tell which is to tattle, and that was
where this Roman bear was coming in
from battle. He had, of course, put
everything opposing him to slumber,
and Rome awaited him to sing some
laudatory number.
But here the parallel desists. Au-
gustus said them, No, sir! and when
he entered with his lists it might have
been the grocer for all the greeting
that he got from that admiring chorus,
the which desire, of course, was not
a bit like Theodorus.
But howsoever, when ne died the
month that loves to grill US was being
written far and wide the season of
Sextilus. They wanted to commem-
crate the hot time he presented the.
nation with, at any rate, SO August
was invented.
The dog days will resume again,
And the man who voted water
With the weather down to eight or
ten
Below will grow the hotter
With wishing that he had foreseen
The season hot and stewing,
And nothing but choice between
Pink lemonade and bluing.
1t will not strike him, we're afraid,
as when the cold was stinging, and
up and down the wind swept street
the icicles were clinging. There's
nothing like dry parade, the shouts
of Hanelulliah, and the children skill
fully arrayed for what you want to
fool you.
It's very easy to forget there's such
a thing as Summer, or such quantity
as sweat. what time the busy drummer
is rub-a-dubbing up the street mil
lion bumps minute, and the line
sweeps by with rhythmic feet and
the little shavers in it.
It somehow makes it seem that
booze is only fit for motors, and in the
scufae that ensues not very many
voters bethink them that a chance
remains that milk won't give them
gristle to last when August boils their
brains and their ears begin to whistle.
A crafty temperance is that contriv-
ing its elections when Boreas is at the
bat in these disputed sections. There
is time for everything, to labor and
to potter, and one to sit way back and
sing inaudibly for water.
At any rate, the world will spin
With very small pretension,
And the Fall elections will begin
To clamor for attention
The next few weeks win fire the gan
Repeatedly and oftly,