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Show JUST FOLKS""' F. j Ktbrwr A. GrcsX 4 4 AN OVERCROWDED HOUSE. St. Paul Is sleeping on the floor. Boswell and Johnson on a bench. She says we have n room for more. Balzac who wrote of people French, Mm it re4 v.her'er he rhan 0 t.i faM, l. I friends are tOSsefl In dust) nooks; Now every shelf, in the room or hall. Is made a lodging place for books. "There Is no room," says she. "for more" Who shares my every weal and w..e -'Here's Stevenson behind the door. And there s your old friend E&gar Poe, Get rid of some of them!" she cries, "Out With them, bag and baggage, now!" I But. oh. they are so good and wise. ! I want to keep thein all somehow." In double rows 1 ve bunked Ihe thi'mm. Anil friendly like I've squeezed them in. The poets with their gift of song Resemble sardines in a tin. I Chris .Morley has to sleep between John Masefreld and the elder Keats, And e.en though they be unclean. There Is no room to change the sheets. Never I venture forth to roam But what when I return I bring Some other new or old friend home And hid Mm cease bis wandering; j And mother telis me to mv fae,.. As she puts on her blackest looks, j I've made the 1 1 . .1 1 ; . a lodgin.; place--A crowded tenement of books. 00 |