The rascals? Nay, Rascality's the thing Above whose back your knotted scourges sing.

_Your_ satire, truly, like a razor keen, "Wounds with a touch that's neither felt nor seen;"

For naught that you a.s.sail with falchion free Has either nerves to feel or eyes to see.

Against abstractions evermore you charge You hack no helmet and you need no targe.

That wickedness is wrong and sin a vice, That wrong's not right and foulness never nice, Fearless affirm. All consequences dare: Smite the offense and the offender spare.

When Ananias and Sapphira lied Falsehood, had you been there, had surely died.

When money-changers in the Temple sat, At money-changing you'd have whirled the "cat"

(That John-the-Baptist of the modern pen) And all the brokers would have cried amen!

Good friend, if any judge deserve your blame Have you no courage, or has he no name?

Upon his method will you wreak your wrath, Himself all unmolested in his path?

Fall to! fall to!--your club no longer draw To beat the air or flail a man of straw.

Scorn to do justice like the Saxon thrall Who cuffed the offender's shadow on a wall.

Let rascals in the flesh attest your zeal-- Knocked on the mazzard or tripped up at heel!

We know that judges are corrupt. We know That crimes are lively and that laws are slow.

We know that lawyers lie and doctors slay; That priests and preachers are but birds of pray; That merchants cheat and journalists for gold Flatter the vicious while at vice they scold.

'Tis all familiar as the simple lore That two policemen and two thieves make four.

But since, while some are wicked, some are good, (As trees may differ though they all are wood) Names, here and there, to show whose head is. .h.i.t, The bad would sentence and the good acquit.

In sparing everybody none you spare: Rebukes most personal are least unfair.

To fire at random if you still prefer, And swear at Dog but never kick a cur, Permit me yet one ultimate appeal To something that you understand and feel: Let thrift and vanity your heart persuade-- You might be read if you would learn your trade.

Good brother cynics (you have doubtless guessed Not one of you but all are here addressed) Remember this: the shaft that seeks a heart Draws all eyes after it; an idle dart Shot at some shadow flutters o'er the green, Its flight unheeded and its fall unseen.

THE HESITATING VETERAN.

When I was young and full of faith And other fads that youngsters cherish A cry rose as of one that saith With unction: "Help me or I perish!"

'Twas heard in all the land, and men The sound were each to each repeating.

It made my heart beat faster then Than any heart can now be beating.

For the world is old and the world is gray-- Grown prudent and, I guess, more witty.

She's cut her wisdom teeth, they say, And doesn't now go in for Pity.

Besides, the melancholy cry Was that of one, 'tis now conceded, Whose plight no one beneath the sky Felt half so poignantly as he did.

Moreover, he was black. And yet That sentimental generation With an austere compa.s.sion set Its face and faith to the occasion.

Then there were hate and strife to spare, And various hard knocks a-plenty; And I ('twas more than my true share, I must confess) took five-and-twenty.

That all is over now--the reign Of love and trade stills all dissensions, And the clear heavens arch again Above a land of peace and pensions.

The black chap--at the last we gave Him everything that he had cried for, Though many white chaps in the grave 'Twould puzzle to say what they died for.

I hope he's better off--I trust That his society and his master's Are worth the price we paid, and must Continue paying, in disasters; But sometimes doubts press thronging round ('Tis mostly when my hurts are aching) If war for union was a sound And profitable undertaking.

'Tis said they mean to take away The Negro's vote for he's unlettered.

'Tis true he sits in darkness day And night, as formerly, when fettered; But pray observe--howe'er he vote To whatsoever party turning, He'll be with gentlemen of note And wealth and consequence and learning.

With Hales and Morgans on each side, How could a fool through lack of knowledge, Vote wrong? If learning is no guide Why ought one to have been in college?

O Son of Day, O Son of Night!

What are your preferences made of?

I know not which of you is right, Nor which to be the more afraid of.

The world is old and the world is bad, And creaks and grinds upon its axis; And man's an ape and the G.o.ds are mad!-- There's nothing sure, not even our taxes.

No mortal man can Truth restore, Or say where she is to be sought for.

I know what uniform I wore-- O, that I knew which side I fought for!

A YEAR'S CASUALTIES.

Slain as they lay by the secret, slow, Pitiless hand of an unseen foe, Two score thousand old soldiers have crossed The river to join the loved and lost.

In the s.p.a.ce of a year their spirits fled, Silent and white, to the camp of the dead.

One after one, they fall asleep And the pension agents awake to weep, And orphaned statesmen are loud in their wail As the souls flit by on the evening gale.

O Father of Battles, pray give us release From the horrors of peace, the horrors of peace!

INSPIRATION.

O h.o.a.ry sculptor, stay thy hand: I fain would view the lettered stone.

What carvest thou?--perchance some grand And solemn fancy all thine own.

For oft to know the fitting word Some humble worker G.o.d permits.

"Jain Ann Meginnis, Agid 3rd.

He givith His beluved fits."

TO-DAY.

I saw a man who knelt in prayer, And heard him say: "I'll lay my inmost spirit bare To-day.

"Lord, for to-morrow and its need I do not pray; Let me upon my neighbor feed To-day.

"Let me my duty duly shirk And run away From any form or phase of work To-day.

"From Thy commands exempted still Let me obey The promptings of my private will To-day.

"Let me no word profane, no lie Unthinking say If anyone is standing by To-day.