قراءة كتاب The Rubaiyat of Omar Cayenne

تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"

‏اللغة: English
The Rubaiyat of Omar Cayenne

The Rubaiyat of Omar Cayenne

تقييمك:
0
No votes yet
المؤلف:
دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
الصفحة رقم: 7

slipshod Work the Magazines will buy,

Don't grumble at the Editor, for he
Must serve the Public, e'en as You and I.

LXXIII

With Puck's first joke, they did the last Life feed,
And there of Judge's Stories sowed the Seed:
And the first jokelet that Joe Miller wrote
The Sunday Comic-Section readers read.

LXXIV

Yesterday This Day's popular Song supplants;
To-morrow's will be even worse, perchance:
Drink! For the latest Coon-Song's floating by:
Drink! Now the music is an Indian Dance!

LXXV

I tell you this—When, started from the Goal,
The first Plantation Ditty 'gan to roll
Through Minstrel Troupes and Negro Baritones
In its predestined race from Pole to Pole,

LXXVI

The Song had caught a Rag-Time girls could shout
And Piano-Organs make a Din about;
But syncopated Melodies at last
Will pass away, and more shall come, no doubt.

LXXVII

And this I know: though Vaudeville delight,
Musical Comedy can bore me quite;
One act of Ibsen from the Gallery caught,
Better than Daly for a festal Night!

LXXVIII

What! out of senseless Show-Girls to evoke
A Drama? Surely, I resent the Joke!
For me, it is not Pleasure, but a Pain—
An Everlasting Bore for decent Folk.

LXXIX

What, must the Theatre Manager be paid—
Our Gold for what his Carpenter has made—
Must we pay Stars we never did Contract,
And cannot hiss at?—Oh, the sorry trade!

LXXX

Oh Thou, who dost with cool sarcastic Grin
Scorn the poor Magazine my Story's in,
Though Thou impute to ignorance my Work,
I know how bad 't will be, ere I begin!

LXXXI

Oh Thou, whose Taste demandeth silly Tales,
Damning the Author when he Tries and Fails,
Let us toss up to see which one is Worse—
Thy Fault or mine—Which is it, Heads or Tails?

*         *         *         *         *

LXXXII

As, for his Luncheon Hour, away had slipp'd
The Editor, his Office-Boy I tipp'd,
And once again before the Sacred Desk
I stood, surrounded by much Manuscript.

LXXXIII

Manuscripts of all Sizes, great and small,
Upon that Desk, in Numbers to appall!
And Some looked very interesting; some
I saw no Sign of Merit in, at all.

LXXXIV

Said one among them—"Surely not in vain
My Author has exhausted

Pages