ONE OF THE UNFAIR SEX.

  She stood at the ticket-seller’s
    Serenely removing her glove,
  While hundreds of strugglers and yellers,
    And some that were good at a shove,
    Were clustered behind her like bats in
      a cave and unwilling to speak their love.

  At night she still stood at that window
    Endeavoring her money to reach;
  The crowds right and left, how they sinned—­O,
    How dreadfully sinned in their speech! 
    Ten miles either way they extended
      their lines, the historians teach.

  She stands there to-day—­legislation
    Has failed to remove her.  The trains
  No longer pull up at that station;
    And over the ghastly remains
    Of the army that waited and died of
      old age fall the snows and the rains.

THE LORD’S PRAYER ON A COIN.

  Upon this quarter-eagle’s leveled face,
  The Lord’s Prayer, legibly inscribed, I trace. 
  “Our Father which”—­the pronoun there is funny,
  And shows the scribe to have addressed the money—­
  “Which art in Heaven”—­an error this, no doubt: 
  The preposition should be stricken out. 
  Needless to quote; I only have designed
  To praise the frankness of the pious mind
  Which thought it natural and right to join,
  With rare significancy, prayer and coin.

A LACKING FACTOR.

  “You acted unwisely,” I cried, “as you see
    By the outcome.”  He calmly eyed me: 
  “When choosing the course of my action,” said he,
    “I had not the outcome to guide me.”

THE ROYAL JESTER.

  Once on a time, so ancient poets sing,
  There reigned in Godknowswhere a certain king. 
  So great a monarch ne’er before was seen: 
  He was a hero, even to his queen,
  In whose respect he held so high a place
  That none was higher,—­nay, not even the ace. 
  He was so just his Parliament declared
  Those subjects happy whom his laws had spared;
  So wise that none of the debating throng
  Had ever lived to prove him in the wrong;
  So good that Crime his anger never feared,
  And Beauty boldly plucked him by the beard;
  So brave that if his army got a beating
  None dared to face him when he was retreating. 
  This monarch kept a Fool to make his mirth,
  And loved him tenderly despite his worth. 
  Prompted by what caprice I cannot say,
  He called the Fool before the throne one day
  And to that jester seriously said: 
  “I’ll abdicate, and you shall reign instead,
  While I, attired in motley, will make sport
  To entertain your Majesty and Court.”