Two Of A Kind

He sat upon the hotel porch,

     The florid millionaire;

Within his bones rheumatics raw,

     Upon his face despair.

He could not eat, he could not sleep,

     Life was a sorry jest;

With all his wealth he could not find

     A moment’s health or rest.

A vendor bearing toy balloons

     Passed by with smile and song;

A hearty son of Italy,

     The happiest in the throng.

The millionaire expressed a sigh

     And sadly shook his head;

“I wish I were that vendor chap,”

     The man of millions said.

The vendor saw the man of wealth

     Propped in his easy chair;

“Must be a fina thing,” said he,

     “To be da meelionaire.”

May 11, 1913