“Why
write this trash?” the scholar said;
“Alive
to-day, tomorrow dead.
Strike
deep; talk of the heart, the soul –
Thy
name upon fame’s endless Scroll.”
Ah,
friend, the scholar hath his art,
But,
too, the wit he hath a part;
And
if each day I lift one frown,
I’m
well content to play the clown.
Feb.
11, 1895
Pub.
in Boston Daily
Traveler,
April 17, 1895
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