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T H E WOR L D | 65 And apples, and pumpkins, and pease, By the ton, if you please! By the wealth which this pearl represents, You could grow so immense— You, and every last one of your young— That your fame would be sung As the takes of every first prize, For your flavor and size! From even a Pig’s point of view The Pearl was worth millions to you. Be a Pig—and a fool—(you must be them) But try to know Pearls when you see them!” Poor Human Nature I saw a meager, melancholy cow, Bless with a starveling calf that sucked in vain; Eftsoon he died. I asked the mother how—? Quoth she, “Of every four there dieth twain!” Poor bovine nature! I saw a sickly horse of shambling gait, Ugly and wicked, weak in leg and back, Useless in all ways, in a wretched state. “We’re all poor creatures!” said the sorry hack. Poor equine nature! I saw a slow cat crawling on the ground, Weak, clumsy, inefficient, full of fears, The mice escaping from her aimless bound. Moaned she, “This truly is a vale of tears!” Poor feline nature! Then did I glory in my noble race, Healthful and beautiful, alert and strong, Rejoicing that we held a higher place And need not add to their our mournful song,— Poor human nature! Our San Francisco Climate Said I to my friend from the East,— A tenderfoot he,— And I showed him the greatest and least Of our hills by the sea, “How do you like our climate?” And I smiled in my glee. 66 | In This Our World I showed him the blue of the hills, And the blue of the sky, And the blue of the beautiful bay Where the ferry-boats ply; And “How do you like our climate?” Securely asked I. Then the wind blew over the sand, And the fog came down, And the papers and dust were on hand All over the town. “How do you like our climate?” I cried with a frown. On the corner we stood as we met Awaiting a car; Beneath us a vent-hole was set, As our street corners are— And street corners in our San Francisco Are perceptible far. He meant to have answered, of course, I could see that he tried; But he had not the strength of a horse, And before he replied The climate rose up from that corner in force, And he died! Criticism The Critic eyed the sunset as the umber turned to gray, Slow fading in the somewhat foggy west; To the color-cultured Critic ’twas a very dull display, “’Tisn’t half so good a sunset as was offered yesterday! I wonder why,” he murmured, as he sadly turned away “The sunsets can’t be always at their best!” Another Creed Another creed! We’re all so pleased! A gentle, tentative new creed. We’re eased Of all those things we could not quite believe, But would not give the lie to. Now perceive How charmingly this suits us! Science even Has naught against our modern views of Heaven; And yet the most emotional of women May find this creed a warm, deep sea to swim in. Here’s something now so loose and large of fit That all the churches may come under it, ...

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