CENTRAL--"But this is a long-distance call."
PLEASURE
Pleasures are like liqueurs: they must be drunk but in small glasses.--_Romainville_.
POETRY
EDITOR--"This isn't poetry, my dear man; it's merely an escape of gas."
WOULD-BE CONTRIBUTOR--"Ah, I see! Something wrong with the meter."
Your poem must _eternal_ be, Dear sir, it can not fail, For 'tis incomprehensible, And wants both _head_ and _tail_.
--_S.T. Coleridge_.
"What is poetry of motion?"
"The kind that's always going from one editor to another."
They were dancing the one-step. The music was heavenly. The swish of her silken skirts was divine. The fragrance of the roses upon her bosom was really intoxicating.
"Ah," she smiled, sweetly, with an arch look up into his face, "you remind me of one of Whitman's poems."
A sudden dizziness seemed to seize him. It was as if he were floating in a dream. When he had sufficiently gained his breath he spoke:
"Which one?"
"Oh, any one," she replied. "The feet are mixed in all of them."--_Everybody's_.
POETS
Sir, I admit your general rule, That every poet is a fool, But you yourself may serve to show it, That every fool is not a poet.
--_Alexander Pope_.
Witter Bynner is said to have worked off a pretty good one at the Poetry Society banquet. Some one asked him if Burns and Noyes could not be likened to each other. Bynner replied: "Well, you can feel Burns, while you can only hear Noyes."
When Masefield, the British poet, visited Yale, he finished his evening's talk and readings earlier than was expected, and the chairman of the meeting suggested that the poet should read any poem requested by the audience. The audience, as usually happens, was dumb. It was an awkward moment. Finally, one of the younger English Department members rushed agitatedly into the breach.
"Won't you please read 'The Tewksbury Road,' Mr. Masefield?"
The poet looked amazed, then puzzled, and at last said with a hesitating desire not to offend "these singular Americans": "Ah--er--I--ah!--would be charmed to do so--really--but I've just read it!"
Professor Alfred Noyes, the English poet, it is known, likes very much to read his works aloud to his friends, and at Princeton, with so many young men under him, he is usually able to gratify this liking to the full. The other day Professor Noyes said to a junior who had called about an examination: "Wait a minute. Don't go yet. I want to show you the proofs of my new book of poems." But the junior made for the door frantically. "No, no," he said. "I don't need proofs. Your word is enough for me, professor."
HE--"I tore up that poem I wrote last week."
SHE--"Tore it up? Why, that was the best thing you ever did."
The little agricultural village had been billed with "Lecture on Keats" for over a fortnight. The evening arrived at length, bringing the lecturer ready to discourse on the poet. The advertised chairman, taken ill at the last moment, was replaced by a local farmer. This worthy introduced the lecturer and terminated his remarks by saying:
"And now, my friends, we shall soon all know what 1 personally have often wondered--what are Keats?"
POLICE
"Why doesn't the policeman pay his fare?" inquired the old gentleman on the twopenny tram, observing that no money passed between the constable and the conductor.
"Well, you know, sir," explained the conductor, "you can't get twopence out of a copper."
"Gent up-town telephones for an officer at once. Burglar in the house."
"Let me see," said the captain, reflectively. "I've got four men censoring plays, two inspecting the gowns at a society function, and two more supervising a tango tea. Tell him I can send him an officer in about two hours."
JUDGE--"You let the burglar go to arrest an automobilist?"
POLICEMAN--"Yes. The autoist pays a fine and adds to the resources of the State; the burglar goes to prison, and the State has to pay for his keep."--_Life_.
POLITENESS