This blow, so unexpected and so crushing,
Is more than I am able to withstand.

So now it but remains for me to die, sir.
Stay! There _is_ another course I may pursue--
And perhaps upon the whole it would be wiser--
I will yield to fate and be a golfer too!




THE SWALLOWS


FROM JEAN PIERRE CLARIS FLORIAN

I love to see the swallows come
At my window twittering,
Bringing from their southern home
News of the approaching spring.
'Last year's nest,' they softly say,
'Last year's love again shall see;
Only faithful lovers may
Tell you of the coming glee.'

When the first fell touch of frost
Strips the wood of faded leaves,
Calling all their winged host,
The swallows meet above the eaves
'Come away, away,' they cry,