Anthology of Magazine Verse for 1921/Legend

LEGEND

I wonder where it could of went to . . .
I know I seen it just as plain:
A beautiful, big fairy city
Shinin' through the rain.

Rain, it was, not snow—in winter!
Special-order April weather
Ticklin' at our two faces
Pressed up close together.

Not a single soul was near us
Standin' out there on the bow;
When we passed another ferry
He says, sudden, "Now!"

Then I looked where he was pointin' . . .
I seen a magic city rise . . .
Gleamin' windows, like when fields is
Full o' fireflies.

Towers and palaces up in the clouds, like . . .
Real as real, but nice and blurred.
"Oh . . ." I starts in—but he whispers
"Hush! Don't say a word!

"Don't look long, and don't ast questions;
Elset you make the fairies sore . . .
They won't let you even see it
Never any more.

"Don't you try to ever go there . . .
It's to dream of, not to find.
Lovely things like that is always
Mostly in your mind."

Somethin' made me say, "It's Jersey!"
Somethin' mean . . . He hollers, "Hell!
Now you done it, sure as shootin' . . .
Now you bust the spell!"

Sure enough, the towers and castles
Went like lightnin' outa sight. . . .
Nothin' there but filthy Jersey
On a drizzly night.

Vanity FairJohn V. A. Weaver