Otherwise some folks might wonder
  With good reason why in thunder
    Learned professors, dry and prim,
  Find such solace in the giddy
  Pranks that Horace played with Liddy
    Or that Liddy played on him.

  Still this world of ours rejoices
  In those ancient singing voices,
    And our hearts beat high and quick,
  To the cadence of old Tiber
  Murmuring praise of roistering Liber
    And of charming Lydia Dick.

  Still, Digentia, downward flowing,
  Prattleth to the roses blowing
    By the dark, deserted grot;
  Still, Soracte, looming lonely,
  Watcheth for the coming only
    Of a ghost that cometh not.

THE TIN BANK.

  Speaking of banks, I’m bound to say
    That a bank of tin is far the best,
  And I know of one that has stood for years
    In a pleasant home away out west. 
  It has stood for years on the mantelpiece
    Between the clock and the Wedgwood plate—­
  A wonderful bank, as you’ll concede
    When you’ve heard the things I’ll now relate.

  This bank was made of McKinley tin,
    Well soldered up at sides and back;
  But it didn’t resemble tin at all,
    For they’d painted it over an iron black. 
  And that it really was a bank
    ’Twas an easy thing to see and say,
  For above the door in gorgeous red
    Appeared the letters B-A-N-K!

  The bank had been so well devised
    And wrought so cunningly that when
  You put your money in at the hole
    It couldn’t get out of that hole again! 
  Somewhere about that stanch, snug thing
    A secret spring was hid away,
  But where it was or how it worked—­
    Excuse me, please, but I will not say.

  Thither, with dimpled cheeks aglow,
    Came pretty children oftentimes,
  And, standing up on stool or chair,
    Put in their divers pence and dimes. 
  Once Uncle Hank came home from town
    After a cycle of grand events,
  And put in a round, blue, ivory thing,
    He said was good for 50 cents!

  The bank went clinkety-clinkety-clink,
    And larger grew the precious sum
  Which grandma said she hoped would prove
    A gracious boon to heathendom! 
  But there were those—­I call no names—­
    Who did not fancy any plan
  That did not in some wise involve
    The candy and banana man.

  Listen; once when the wind went “Yooooooo!”
    And the raven croaked in the tangled tarn—­
  When, with a wail, the screech-owl flew
    Out of her lair in the haunted barn—­
  There came three burglars down the road—­
    Three burglars skilled in arts of sin,
  And they cried:  “What’s this?  Aha!  Oho!”
    And straightway tackled the bank of tin.