Poetry Archives

He scribbles some in prose and verse,
  And now and then he prints it;
He paints a little,—gathers some
  Of Nature’s gold and mints it.

He plays a little, sings a song,
  Acts tragic roles, or funny;
He does, because his love is strong,
  But not, oh, not for money!

He studies almost everything
  From social art to science;
A thirsty mind, a flowing spring,
  Demand and swift compliance.

He looms above the sordid crowd—
  At least through friendly lenses;
While his mamma looks pleased and proud,
  And kindly pays expenses.