An Exception
In all romances, old and new,
And in all lover's rhymes
I find one rule that has held true
Since prehistoric times.
The lover must, if he indeed
Be hit by Cupid's dart,
Grow pale, sigh much, neglect his food,
And wholly lose his heart.
Now fain would I abide this rule
But I, forsooth, grow red
And hot, and stammer like a fool,
And only lose my head.
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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The Wood Nymph
A glint of her hair or a flash of her shoulder —
That is the most I can boast to have seen,
Then all is lost as the shadows enfold her,
Forest glades making a screen of their green,
Could I cast off all the cares of tomorrow—
Could I forget all the fret of today
Then, my heart free from the burdens I borrow,
Nature’s chaste spirit her face would display.
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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The Water Nymphs
They hide in the brook when I seek to draw nearer,
Laughing amain when I feign to depart;
Often I hear them, now faint and now clearer—
Innocent bold or so sweetly discreet.
Are they Nymphs of the Stream at their playing
Or but the brook I mistook for a voice?
Little care I; for, despite harsh Time’s flaying,
Brook voice or Nymph voice still makes me rejoice.
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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Anticipation
I hold her letter as I stand,
Nor break the seal; no need to guess
What dainty little female hand
Penned this most delicate address.
The scented seal—I break it not,
But stand in stormy revery;
I tremble as I wonder what
She who penned this will say to me.
I wonder what my wife will say
If so it be she e’er shall know
I only mailed her note today—
It should have gone two weeks ago!
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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The Hunter
A full-fledged gun cannot endure
The trifling of an amateur;
Poor marksmanship its temper spoils
And this is why the gun recoils.
A self-respecting gun I’m sure
Delights to jar the amateur
And thinks that it is no disgrace
To kick his shoulder out of place.
Moral
When you go out to hunt, my son
Prepare to circumvent your gun
And on your shoulder firmly bind
A pillow of the largest kind.
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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Good - Better - Best
When young, in tones quite positive
I said, "The world shall see
That I can keep myself from sin;
A good man I will be."
But when I loved Miss Kate St. Clair
'Twas thus my musing ran:
"I cannot be compared with her;
I'll be a better man."
'Twas at the wedding of a friend
(He married Kate St. Clair)
That I became superlative,
For I was "best man" there.
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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Partners
Love took chambers on our street
Opposite to mine;
On his door he tacked a neat,
Clearly lettered sign.
Straightway grew his custom great,
For his sign read so:
'Hearts united while you wait.
Step in. Love and Co.'
Much I wondered who was 'Co.'
In Love’s partnership;
Thought across the street I’d go—
Learn from Love’s own lip.
So I went; and since that day
Life is hard for me.
I was buncoed! (By the way,
'Co.' is Jealousy.)
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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Would You Believe It?
One year ago I wished that I
A banker great might be
With a hundred million dollars
And financial majesty;
A mighty Wall Street banker
With a whopping lot of power
And an income of somewhere around
A thousand plunks per hour;
A solid Wall Street banker
With securities in sacks
And with clever men to show me
How to pay no income tax;
A wealthy Wall Street banker
Who raked in cash like hay;
I wished that just a year ago—
And I wish the same today.
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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A Question
Whene’er I feed the barnyard folk
My gentle soul is vexed;
My sensibilities are torn
And I am sore perplexed.
The rooster so politely stands
While waiting for his food,
But when I feed him, what a change!
He then is rough and rude.
He crowds his gentle wives aside
Or pecks them on the head;
Sometimes I think it would be best
If he were never fed.
And so I often stand for hours
Deciding which is right—
To impolitely have enough,
Or starve and be polite.
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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The Daughter Of The Year
Nature, when she made thee, dear,
Begged the treasures of the year.
For thy cheeks, all pink and white,
Spring gave apple blossoms light;
Summer, for thy matchless eyes,
Gave the azure of her skies;
Autumn spun her gold and red
In a mass of silken thread—
Gold and red and sunlight rare
For the wonder of thy hair!
Surly Winter would impart
But his coldness, for thy heart.
Dearest, let the love I bring
Turn thy Winter into Spring.
What are Summer, Spring and Fall,
If thy Winter chills them all?
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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