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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.