Job Work

<SPAN name="startofbook"></SPAN> <h4 id="id00250" style="margin-top: 2em">JOB WORK</h4> <p id="id00251">"Write me a rhyme of the present time".<br/> And the poet took his pen<br/> And wrote such lines as the miser minds<br/> Hide in the hearts of men.<br/></p> <p id="id00252">He grew enthused, as the poets used<br/> When their fingers kissed the strings<br/> Of some sweet lyre, and caught the fire<br/> True inspiration brings,<br/></p> <p id="id00253">And sang the song of a nation's wrong—<br/> Of the patriot's galling chain,<br/> And the glad release that the angel, Peace,<br/> Has given him again.<br/></p> <p id="id00254">He sang the lay of religion's sway,<br/> Where a hundred creeds clasp hands<br/> And shout in glee such a symphony<br/> That the whole world understands.<br/></p> <p id="id00255">He struck the key of monopoly,<br/> And sang of her swift decay,<br/> And traveled the track of the railway back<br/> With a blithesome roundelay—<br/></p> <p id="id00256">Of the tranquil bliss of a true love kiss;<br/> And painted the picture, too,<br/> Of the wedded life, and the patient wife,<br/> And the husband fond and true;<br/></p> <p id="id00257">And sang the joy that a noble boy<br/> Brings to a father's soul,<br/> Who lets the wine as a mocker shine<br/> Stagnated in the bowl.<br/></p> <p id="id00258">And he stabbed his pen in the ink again,<br/> And wrote with a writhing frown,<br/> "This is the end." "And now, my friend,<br/> You may print it—upside down!"<br/></p> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />