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[Illustration]
_To Stern Critics_
Here's to stern Critics!
May they some day learn
The forward lookout's
Better than the stern!
[Illustration]
Here's to her shadow!
May it mark the hours
Upon the sundial of her life--in flowers!
* * * * *
HAPPY DAYS
BY
OLIVER HERFORD
AND
JOHN CECIL CLAY
NEW YORK
MITCHELL KENNERLEY
COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY
MITCHELL KENNERLEY
THE.PLIMPTON.PRESS
NORWOOD.MASS.U.S.A
* * * * *
_CONTENTS_
PAGE
TO STERN CRITICS 3
TO HER SHADOW 4
TO FASHION 9
TO THE TYPEWRITER 11
THE FLOOR 12
TO MUSIC 15
TO THE PUBLISHER 17
HERE'S LOOKING 19
THE DOVE OF PEACE 21
TO THE CLOCK 23
TO HOPE 25
TO LIBERTY 27
STAIRS: A TOAST 29
TO LADY NICOTINE 31
OH, EDITOR, EDITOR! 33
TO THE CREDITOR 35
TO NEPTUNE 37
TO THE WAITER 39
TO TEMPTATION 41
TO THE MAID WITH FANCY FREE 43
TO OUR SWEETHEARTS 45
TO OUR READERS 46
* * * * *
[Illustration:]
Fashion! Lovely Dame!
Pledge in sparkling wine!
Let us add her name
To the Muses' nine!
Though the lovely Nin
All should pass away
Why should Woman pine,
If but Fashion stay?
Tho' the Muses' lore
Molder on the shelf,
Still may She adore
In Fashion's glass--Herself.
[Illustration:]
_To The Typewriter_
Here's to the Typewriter!
Health to her type!
Whether blond or brunette
Or budding or ripe.
If she be the right type
Be she buxom or slight,
When she doesn't type wrong
She is sure to typewrite.
[Illustration]
THE FLOOR
Here's to the floor,
Our best friend of all,
Who sticks to us close
In the time of our fall.
When benches are fickle
And tables betray
And rugs are revolving,
He meets us half-way.
Our stay and support,
When we can't stand alone,
With the floor for a backer,
We'll never be thrown.
Here's to our friend,
In life's every stage!
Dry nurse of infancy,
Wet nurse of age!
_A health_ to our floor!
Supporter and stay;
Though he often be full,
May he never give way!
[Illustration]
[Illustration:]
_To Music_
Here's to Music,
Joy of joys!
One man's music's
Another man's noise.
[Illustration:]
[Illustration:]
To The Publisher!--Drink!
Let his virtue be shown
In the _Good Works_ of others
If not in his own.
TO THE PUBLISHER
[Illustration:]
Here's looking
at you, dear!
though I should pour
A sea of wine,
my eyes would
thirst for more.
[Illustration:]
Here's to the Dove of Peace!
May she find a mate some day,
And may her tribe increase
As fast as she can lay!
<tb>
With cooing doves galore
Then may the sky be dark
Until the Dogs of War
Can't see each other bark!
[Illustration:]
Here's to the Clock!
Whose hands, we pray heaven,
When we come home at three,
Have stopped at eleven!
TO THE CLOCK
[Illustration]
Here's to Hope,
the child of Care,
And pretty sister
of Despair!
Here's hoping that
Hope's children shan't
Take after their Grandma
or Aunt!
[Illustration]
TO LIBERTY
Here's to our Goddess, Liberty,
Idol of bronze and stone!
May she awake to life some day
And let her charms be known.
[Illustration]
STAIRS
A TOAST
Here's to the man who invented stairs
And taught our feet to soar!
He was the first who ever burst
Into a second floor.
The world would be downstairs to-day
Had he not found the key;
So let his name go down to fame,
Whatever it may be.
[Illustration]
TO OUR LADY NICOTINE
Here's to Lady Nicotine!
Saint and Sorceress and Queen!
Saint, whose purple halo rings
Lift our eyes from earthly things;
Witch, whose wand of scented briar
Transmutes dead weeds to fragrant fire;
Queen, whose rod her slaves adore!
What can freedom offer more?
[Illustration]
OH, EDITOR, EDITOR,
Awful and grand,
Who holdest our fate
In the palm of thy hand,
Dost ever reflect
How one day thy ghost
To an Editor awf'ler
And grander will post?
Before him a great
Golden scroll is spread wide,
And a bottomless waste-basket
Yawns at his side.
With a swift searching glance
He reads through thy soul,
Then he looks at the basket,
Then looks at the scroll;
He purses his lips
And nibbles his pen,
And frowns for one long
Awful moment--and then--
Oh, Editor!--think! if thy
Poor crumpled soul
Fall into the basket
And not in the scroll!
[Illustration]
_To The Creditor_
Here's to the Creditor,
Long may he reign!
May his Faith never waver,
His Trust never wane.
May the Lord make him gentle
And gracious and gay,
Yet quick to resent
The least offer of pay:
May he soften his heart
As he softened, we're told,
To the Israelite's 'touch,'
The Egyptian of old;
And when on his last
Long account he shall look,
The angel will say
As he closes the book:
"The Lord gives you Credit
For Credit you gave"!
So here's to the Creditor--
Long may he waive.
[Illustration]
TO NEPTUNE
A health to King Neptune,
The boss of the wave!
Who sits on the Ocean
And makes it behave.
Come fill up your bumpers
And take a long pull!
When he's calm he's not dry--
When he rolls, he's not full.
Whether sober or rough,
He's always a sport,
And we'll never stop toasting him
Till we're in port.
A jolly old salt,
Though he smile or he frown.
So here's to King Neptune!
Fill up! Drink her down!
[Illustration]
We drink your health, O Waiter!
And may you be preserved
From old age, gout, or sudden death!--
At least till supper's served.
TO THE WAITER
[Illustration]
Here's to temptation!
Give us strength and grace
Against her witching smile,
To set our face!
[Illustration]
Here's to the maid with Fancy Free;
If Cupid's necromancy
Imprison not her heart, maybe,
It will arrest her Fancy.
[Illustration]
To our Sweethearts and Wives,
The joy of our lives!
May our Wives be our Sweethearts--
Our Sweethearts, our Wives.
_To Our Readers_
Here's to our Readers, Health! good Looks!
And Joy _ad infinitum_
And may they live to read our Books
As long as we may write 'em.
[Illustration]
End of Project Gutenberg's Happy Days, by Oliver Herford and John Cecil ClayProject Gutenberg
Happy Days
Herford, Oliver & Clay, John Cecil
Chimera39
High School