HER EASY CHAIR.
As recited by Willie Wildwave.
When Edith, my wife, is all snug in bed,
And cozy I sit in her easy chair
To dream by the embers and smoke my pipe,
I feel that the world is passing fair.
For though I've been working my head nigh off,
Dressing the babies and mending frocks,
Sewing on buttons and washing up spoons.
Sweeping the rooms and darning the socks.
Polishing gaiters and scrubbing the floor,
Setting the table-(I broke a cup
And nearly my heart along with it, too,
For I know that my Edith will blow me up).
Yet love still lightens my labors sore.
For I feel that my wife for higher things
Than these was born, and I never grudge
Her all the leisure my labor brings.
She's up in theologics, every one,
In metaphysic? and physics, too;
Know the microbes, and can discuss
Fauna and flora till all is blue.
And when she talks with Professoress Swipes
Of nebula?, star dust, and earth's round moon,
Of faculea, ether, and Saturn's rings,
I feel like dancing a rigadoon.
For my glee is so great that my eyes stick out
In admiration of her and her kind,
And "what is man that she's mindful of him?"
I say to myself and I never mind.
She up on the tariff and up on her ear
On McKinley's bill and the Sugar Trust,
And when she is slinging her flexible jaw
Round the rights of man, you should hear her-just!
To-morrow she If going to Yonkers, there
To hear the Methodist Conference talk
Of women and voting. How little they know
How Edith could make them walk their chalk.
She's bought her ticket and darned the expense;
I've packed her gripsack and all is well;
And now to my room I will totter me off,
For I hear the baby beginning to yell.
"Ah, well I For as all some sweet hope lies,"
Though it lie like blazes, I do not care;
For my pipe Is out, and no longer I'll sit
And dream of love in her easy chair.