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Show THE BATHING BEACH I view the heaving ocean, - that sighs of sailors' graves, and have no foolish notion of splashing in its waves. For men in bathing garments, gar-ments, when they are old or fat, are silly looking varmints, there is no doubt of that. The human form's a winner when it is neatly drest, when pants have tailored creases, and coats are trim and neat, men loom up to their nieces as something cute and sweet. But man's no more a dandy, when, from his garments free, on scrawny legs and bandy, he lumbers to the sea. I see fine men and stately go by my punk abode, and I admire them greatly, and frame them in an ode. Their linen's nicely laundered, their duds inspire the muse, and money they have squandered for shining of their shoes I say, "Their sons and daughters must view such dads with pride," and then into the waters, I see the fine men slide. They splash among the billows with idiotic glee, and look like cheap gorillows escaped from some musee. I watch the fat men, denuded, go frisking to the sea, and my tub, secluded is good enough for me. Walt Mason. |