“My estate is some ’at ’umble, but I’m qualified to draw
  Near the hymeneal altar and whack up my heart and claw
  To Emancipated Anything as walks upon the earth;
  And them things is at your service for whatever they are worth. 
  I’m sure to be congenial, marm, nor e’er deserve a scowl—­
  I’m Emancipated Rooster, I am Expurgated Fowl!”

  From the future and its wonders I withdrew my gaze, and then
  Wrote this wild unfestive prophecy about the Coming Hen.

ARMA VIRUMQUE.

  “Ours is a Christian Army”; so he said
  A regiment of bangomen who led. 
  “And ours a Christian Navy,” added he
  Who sailed a thunder-junk upon the sea. 
  Better they know than men unwarlike do
  What is an army and a navy, too. 
  Pray God there may be sent them by-and-by
  The knowledge what a Christian is, and why. 
  For somewhat lamely the conception runs
  Of a brass-buttoned Jesus firing guns.

ON A PROPOSED CREMATORY.

  When a fair bridge is builded o’er the gulf
  Between two cities, some ambitious fool,
  Hot for distinction, pleads for earliest leave
  To push his clumsy feet upon the span,
  That men in after years may single him,
  Saying:  “Behold the fool who first went o’er!”
  So be it when, as now the promise is,
  Next summer sees the edifice complete
  Which some do name a crematorium,
  Within the vantage of whose greater maw’s
  Quicker digestion we shall cheat the worm
  And circumvent the handed mole who loves,
  With tunnel, adit, drift and roomy stope,
  To mine our mortal parts in all their dips
  And spurs and angles.  Let the fool stand forth
  To link his name with this fair enterprise,
  As first decarcassed by the flame.  And if
  With rival greedings for the fiery fame
  They push in clamoring multitudes, or if
  With unaccustomed modesty they all
  Hold off, being something loth to qualify,
  Let me select the fittest for the rite. 
  By heaven!  I’ll make so warrantable, wise
  And excellent censure of their true deserts,
  And such a searching canvass of their claims,
  That none shall bait the ballot.  I’ll spread my choice
  Upon the main and general of those
  Who, moved of holy impulse, pulpit-born,
  Protested ’twere a sacrilege to burn
  God’s gracious images, designed to rot,
  And bellowed for the right of way for each
  Distempered carrion through the water pipes. 
  With such a sturdy, boisterous exclaim
  They did discharge themselves from their own throats
  Against the splintered gates of audience
  ’Twere wholesomer to take them in at mouth
  Than ear.  These shall burn first:  their ignible
  And seasoned substances—­trunks, legs and arms,
  Blent indistinguishable in a mass,
  Like winter-woven serpents in a pit—­
  None vantaged of his fellow-fools in point
  Of precedence, and all alive—­shall serve
  As fueling to fervor the retort
  For after cineration of true men.