'ENOUGH IS AS GOOD AS A FEAST'

What is Enough? An idle dream!

One cannot have enough, I swear, Of Ices or Meringues-and-Cream, Nougat or Chocolate eclairs, Of Oysters or of Caviar, Of Prawns or Pate de Foie _Grar_!

Who would not willingly forsake Kindred and Home, without a fuss, For Icing from a Birthday Cake, Or juicy fat Asparagus, And journey over countless seas For New Potatoes and Green Peas?

They say that a Contented Mind Is a Continual Feast;--but where The mental frame, and how to find, Which can with Turtle Soup compare?

No mind, however full of Ease, Could be Continual Toasted Cheese.

For dinner have a sole to eat (Some Perrier Jouet, '92), An Entree then (and, with the meat, A bottle of Lafitte will do), A quail, a gla.s.s of port (just one), Liqueurs and coffee, and you've done.

Your tastes may be of simpler type;-- A homely pint of 'half-and-half,'

An onion and a dish of tripe, Or headpiece of the kindly calf.

(Cruel perhaps, but then, you know, ''_Faut tout souffrir pour etre veau_!')

'Tis a mistake to eat too much Of any dishes but the best; And you, of course, should never touch A thing you _know_ you can't digest; For instance, lobster:--if you _do_, Well,--I'm amayonnaised at you!

Let this be your heraldic crest: A bottle (charge) of Champagne, A chicken (gorged) with salad (dress'd), Below, this motto to explain-- 'Enough is Very Good, may be; Too Much is Good Enough for Me!'

III

'DON'T BUY A PIG IN A POKE'

Unscrupulous Pigmongers will Attempt to wheedle and to coax The ignorant young housewife till She purchases her pigs in pokes; Beasts that have got a Lurid Past, Or else are far Too Good to Last.

So, should you not desire to be The victim of a cruel hoax, Then promise me, ah! promise me, You will not purchase pigs in pokes!

('Twould be an error just as big To poke your purchase in a pig.)

Too well I know the bitter cost, To turn this subject off with jokes; How many fortunes have been lost By men who purchased pigs in pokes.

(Ah! think on such when you would talk With mouths that are replete with pork!)

And, after dinner, round the fire, Astride of Grandpa's rugged knee, Implore your bored but patient sire To tell you what a Poke may be.

The fact he might disclose to you-- Which is far more than _I_ can do.

The Moral of The Pigs and Pokes Is not to make your choice too quick.

In purchasing a Book of Jokes, Pray poke around and take your pick.

Who knows how rich a mental meal The covers of _this_ book conceal?

IV

'LEARN TO TAKE THINGS EASILY'

To these few words, it seems to me, A wealth of sound instruction clings; O Learn to Take things easily-- Espeshly Other People's Things; And Time will make your fingers deft At what is known as Petty Theft.

'Fools and Their Money soon must part!'

And you can help this on, may be, If, in the kindness of your Heart, You Learn to Take things easily; And be, with little education, A Prince of Misappropriation.

V

'A ROLLING STONE GATHERS NO MOSS'

I never understood, I own, What anybody (with a soul) Could mean by offering a Stone This needless warning not to Roll; And what inducement there can be To gather Moss, I fail to see.

I'd sooner gather anything, Like primroses, or news perhaps, Or even wool (when suffering A momentary mental lapse); But could forgo my share of moss, Nor ever realise the loss.

'Tis a botanical disease, And worthy of remark as such; Lending a dignity to trees, To ruins a romantic touch; A timely adjunct, I've no doubt, But not worth writing home about.

Of all the Stones I ever met, In calm repose upon the ground, I really never found one yet With a desire to roll around; Theirs is a stationary role.

(A joke,--and feeble on the whole.)

But, if I were a stone, I swear I'd sooner move and view the World, Than sit and grow the greenest hair That ever Nature combed and curled.

I see no single saving grace In being known as 'Mossyface'!

Instead, I might prove useful for A weapon in the hand of Crime, A paperweight, a milestone, or A missile at Election-time; In each capacity I could Do quite incalculable good.

When well directed from the Pit, I might promote a welcome death, If fortunate enough to hit Some budding Hamlet or Macbeth, Who twice each day the playhouse fills,-- (For Further Notice see Small Bills).

At concerts, too, if you prefer, I could prevent your growing deaf By silencing the amateur Before she reached that upper F; Or else, in lieu of half-a-brick, Restrain some local Kubelik.

Then, human stones, take my advice, (As you should always do, indeed); This proverb may be very nice, But don't you pay it any heed, And, tho' you make the critics cross, Roll on, and never mind the moss!

VI

'IT IS NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND'

Since it can never be too late To change your life, or else renew it, Let the unpleasant process wait, Until you are _compelled_ to do it.

The State provides (and gratis too) Establishments for such as you.

Remember this, and pluck up heart, That, be you publican or parson, Your ev'ry art must have a start, From petty larceny to arson; And even in the burglar's trade, The cracksman is not born, but made.

So, if in your career of crime, You fail to carry out some 'coup,'

Then try again a second time, And yet again, until you _do_; And don't despair, or fear the worst, Because you get found out at first.

Perhaps the battle will not go, On all occasions, to the strongest; You may be fairly certain tho'

That He Laughs Last who Laughs the Longest.

So keep a good reserve of laughter, Which may be found of use hereafter.

Believe me that, howe'er well meant, A good resolve is always brief; Don't let your precious hours be spent In turning over a new leaf.

Such leaves, like Nature's, soon decay, And then are only in the way.

The Road to--well, a certain spot (A road of very fair dimensions), Has, so the proverb tells us, got A parquet-floor of Good Intentions.

Take care, in your desire to please, You do not add a brick to these.