Page:Anthology of Magazine Verse (1921).djvu/206
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Somethin' made me say, "It's Jersey!"
Somethin' mean . . . He hollers, "Hell!
Now you done it, sure as shootin' . . .
Now you bust the spell!"
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.
Went like lightnin' outa sight. . . .
Nothin' there but filthy Jersey
On a drizzly night.
Vanity FairJohn V. A. Weaver
CLIFFS
I took my longing up a cliff,
All alone, I looked on the sea—
The surf, spread out like fans of lace
Rustled a soft sound up to me,
A gentle sound like sliding beads,
And wind hummed over the weeds.
All alone, I looked on the sea—
The surf, spread out like fans of lace
Rustled a soft sound up to me,
A gentle sound like sliding beads,
And wind hummed over the weeds.
Long and long ago a cliff
Lovers out of luck would leap,
And fall to cool their hearts like stones,
Or break like waves and fall asleep.
The sea now is the same, I knew,
And any cliff, I thought, would do.
Lovers out of luck would leap,
And fall to cool their hearts like stones,
Or break like waves and fall asleep.
The sea now is the same, I knew,
And any cliff, I thought, would do.
I laid down my frock and frills,
I took gold pins from my hair,
And tip-toed to the tasselled edge,
Whispering a prayer,
That nothing else of me but foam
Should remain to carry home.
I took gold pins from my hair,
And tip-toed to the tasselled edge,
Whispering a prayer,
That nothing else of me but foam
Should remain to carry home.
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