Maud Muller one
bright day in June – ‘twas either morn or afternoon, – stood dreaming near the
garden gate and silently bemoaned her fate. The judge came flying down the hill
and spying Maud he stopped him still. “Will have a drive in my machine?” He
queried of this rustic Queen. “The car is new, the roads are prime, we will
return by dinner time.” “I’m sorry, judge,” the maid replied, “but I can’t join
you on this ride, for autos are so slow, you see, there’s naught but aeroplanes
for me, and Tommy Dart will soon be here; we’re going to Mars and back, my
dear; goodbye.” The judge crept down the lane and softly cursed the aeroplane.
“Alas, alack, my eyes!” said he, “This age is much too swift for me.”
Dec.
18, ‘08
Pub.
NY Herald
Jan.
17, ‘09
(original crossed out)
No comments:
Post a Comment