When Gassy Thompson Struck it Rich

He paid a Swede twelve bits an hour

Just to invent a fancy style

To spread the celebration paint

So it would show at least a mile.

Some things they did I will not tell.

They're not quite proper for a rhyme.

But I WILL say Yim Yonson Swede

Did sure invent a sunflower time.

One thing they did that I can tell

And not offend the ladies here:--

They took a goat to Simp's Saloon

And made it take a bath in beer.

That ENTERprise took MANagement.

They broke a wash-tub in the fray.

But mister goat was bathed all right

And bar-keep Simp was, too, they say.

They wore girls' pink straw hats to church

And clucked like hens. They surely did.

They bought two HOtel frying pans

And in them down the mountain slid.

They went to Denver in good clothes,

And kept Burt's grill-room wide awake,

And cut about like jumping-jacks,

And ordered seven-dollar steak.

They had the waiters whirling round

Just sweeping up the smear and smash.

They tried to buy the State-house flag.

They showed the Janitor the cash.

And old Dan Tucker on a toot,

Or John Paul Jones before the breeze,

Or Indians eating fat fried dog,

Were not as happy babes as these.

One morn, in hills near Cripple-creek

With cheerful swears the two awoke.

The Swede had twenty cents, all right.

But Gassy Thompson was clean broke.

Rhymes for Gloriana

I. The Doll upon the Topmost Bough

This doll upon the topmost bough,

This playmate-gift, in Christmas dress,

Was taken down and brought to me

One sleety night most comfortless.

Her hair was gold, her dolly-sash

Was gray brocade, most good to see.

The dear toy laughed, and I forgot

The ill the new year promised me.

II. On Suddenly Receiving a Curl Long Refused

Oh, saucy gold circle of fairyland silk--

Impudent, intimate, delicate treasure:

A noose for my heart and a ring for my finger:--

Here in my study you sing me a measure.

Whimsy and song in my little gray study!

Words out of wonderland, praising her fineness,

Touched with her pulsating, delicate laughter,

Saying, "The girl is all daring and kindness!"

Saying, "Her soul is all feminine gameness,

Trusting her insights, ardent for living;

She would be weeping with me and be laughing,

A thoroughbred, joyous receiving and giving!"

III. On Receiving One of Gloriana's Letters

Your pen needs but a ruffle

To be Pavlova whirling.

It surely is a scalawag

A-scamping down the page.

A pretty little May-wind

The morning buds uncurling.

And then the white sweet Russian,

The dancer of the age.

Your pen's the Queen of Sheba,

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