INDUSTRIAL DISCONTENT.

  As time rolled on the whole world came to be
    A desolation and a darksome curse;
  And some one said:  “The changes that you see
    In the fair frame of things, from bad to worse,
  Are wrought by strikes.  The sun withdrew his glimmer
  Because the moon assisted with her shimmer.

  “Then, when poor Luna, straining very hard,
    Doubled her light to serve a darkling world,
  He called her ‘scab,’ and meanly would retard
    Her rising:  and at last the villain hurled
  A heavy beam which knocked her o’er the Lion
  Into the nebula of great O’Ryan.

  “The planets all had struck some time before,
    Demanding what they said were equal rights: 
  Some pointing out that others had far more
    That a fair dividend of satellites. 
  So all went out—­though those the best provided,
  If they had dared, would rather have abided.

  “The stars struck too—­I think it was because
    The comets had more liberty than they,
  And were not bound by any hampering laws,
    While they were fixed; and there are those who say
  The comets’ tresses nettled poor Altair,
  An aged orb that hasn’t any hair.

  “The earth’s the only one that isn’t in
    The movement—­I suppose because she’s watched
  With horror and disgust how her fair skin
    Her pranking parasites have fouled and blotched
  With blood and grease in every labor riot,
  When seeing any purse or throat to fly at.”

TEMPORA MUTANTUR.

  “The world is dull,” I cried in my despair: 
  “Its myths and fables are no longer fair.

  “Roll back thy centuries, O Father Time. 
  To Greece transport me in her golden prime.

  “Give back the beautiful old Gods again—­
  The sportive Nymphs, the Dryad’s jocund train,

  “Pan piping on his reeds, the Naiades,
  The Sirens singing by the sleepy seas.

  “Nay, show me but a Gorgon and I’ll dare
  To lift mine eyes to her peculiar hair

  “(The fatal horrors of her snaky pate,
  That stiffen men into a stony state)

  “And die—­erecting, as my soul goes hence,
  A statue of myself, without expense.”

  Straight as I spoke I heard the voice of Fate: 
  “Look up, my lad, the Gorgon sisters wait.”

  Raising my eyes, I saw Medusa stand,
  Stheno, Euryale, on either hand.

  I gazed unpetrified and unappalled—­
  The girls had aged and were entirely bald!

CONTENTMENT.

  Sleep fell upon my senses and I dreamed
    Long years had circled since my life had fled. 
  The world was different, and all things seemed
    Remote and strange, like noises to the dead. 
    And one great Voice there was; and something said: 
  “Posterity is speaking—­rightly deemed
  Infallible:”  and so I gave attention,
  Hoping Posterity my name would mention.