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Show THE POET'S DILEMMA. Roy Farrell Greene. 1'vo been for at least ton years, In verse, Admiring golden curls; Though tho songs were vapid, and oft-times oft-times worse, They fitted so many girls Whose hearts, for tho moment. I sought to win-But win-But Fortune has thrown mo down! It's to Dorothy now that my hopes l pin, And Dorothy's curls arc brown! I'll alienate all of tho other girls If I sing of "the charms untold That hallow a cluster of chestnut curls." I'vo said all that of tho cold! I've sung of nunbvam'H being caught, And of wearing "a halo crown," But can I now? Ah. perlnh tho thought! For Dorothy's curls ar brown. I can't Insist that I wrote for pelf. For It's known that my verso rang true 1 Although a court may reverse itself. For a po't that courso won't do! And I'm fearful some vcra) to hyr may be shown (.There's scores of them here In town). So "yellow" that Dorothy won't condone. Since Dorothy's curls are brown! A WELKUM CHANJ. Detroit Free Prt'M. ' I'm at the botum of my kins ' nttltaws I kanot apel; But soon I'll bo on top yu bet 'An' J'H sta then an well. They're colng to chanj the spelling rules An' m.iku our lessunH lite. An' thone who'ro rite thtm will bo rong An' thos who'ro rone bo rlto. |