All through the land of Gul, the stout
  Young Spring is kicking Winter out. 
  The grass sneaks in upon the scene,
  Defacing it with bottle-green.

  The stumbling lamb arrives to ply
  His restless tail in every eye,
  Eats nasty mint to spoil his meat
  And make himself unfit to eat. 
  Madly his throat the bulbul tears—­
  In every grove blasphemes and swears
  As the immodest rose displays
  Her shameless charms a dozen ways. 
  Lo! now, throughout the utmost span
  Of Ispahan—­of Gulistan—­
  A big new book’s displayed in all
  The shops and cumbers every stall. 
  The price is low—­the dealers say ’tis—­
  And the rich are treated to it gratis. 
  Engraven on its foremost page
  These title-words the eye engage: 
  “The Life of Muley Ben Maroon,
  Of Astrabad—­Rogue, Thief, Buffoon
  And Miser—­Liver by the Sweat
  Of Better Men:  A Lamponette
  Composed in Rhyme and Written all
  By Meerza Solyman Zingall!”

CORRECTED NEWS.

  ’T was a maiden lady (the newspapers say)
  Pious and prim and a bit gone-gray. 
    She slept like an angel, holy and white,
    Till ten o’ the clock in the shank o’ the night
  (When men and other wild animals prey)
  And then she cried in the viewless gloom: 
  “There’s a man in the room, a man in the room!”
  And this maiden lady (they make it appear)
  Leapt out of the window, five fathom sheer!

  Alas, that lying is such a sin
  When newspaper men need bread and gin
    And none can be had for less than a lie! 
  For the maiden lady a bit gone-gray
  Saw the man in the room from across the way,
  And leapt, not out of the window but in—­
    Ten fathom sheer, as I hope to die!

AN EXPLANATION.

  “I never yet exactly could determine
  Just how it is that the judicial ermine
  Is kept so safely from predacious vermin.”

  “It is not so, my friend:  though in a garret
  ’Tis kept in camphor, and you often air it,
  The vermin will get into it and wear it.”

JUSTICE.

  Jack Doe met Dick Roe, whose wife he loved,
    And said:  “I will get the best of him.” 
  So pulling a knife from his boot, he shoved
    It up to the hilt in the breast of him.

  Then he moved that weapon forth and back,
    Enlarging the hole he had made with it,
  Till the smoking liver fell out, and Jack
    Merrily, merrily played with it.

  Then he reached within and he seized the slack
    Of the lesser bowel, and, traveling
  Hither and thither, looked idly back
    On that small intestine, raveling.

  The wretched Richard, with many a grin
    Laid on with exceeding suavity,
  Curled up and died, and they ran John in
    And charged him with sins of gravity.