BOOK OF SONGS

CHAPTER ONE

The Song of a Wife, which is Mrs. Solomon’s.

Let him praise me with the words of his mouth; for his flattery is sweeter than wine and his kisses are rarer than orchids.

Lo, my Beloved, thy hair is as stubble, and in the morning it standeth aloft, as a shorn wheat field.

Thy cheek is as a Turkish towel, which caresseth mine.

Thy temples are a shining light, which resembleth a silver polish advertisement.

Thou wearest a derby hat. Thy breath is sweet with cloves.

How fascinating art thou in pajamas, when thy face is covered with shaving lather!

How beautiful are thy feet.

Behold, thou art a collection of habits. Yea, unto these thou art more constant than the family cat. Whatsoever thou hast done before, that shalt thou do forever and in the same way.

Thou kissest me once in the morning, once in the evening, and twice upon Christmas Day.

Thou clingest unto thine old pipe as unto thy reputation. Thou callest every woman by the same pet name.

Lo, what would my Beloved be without his habits? Even as a doggie’s tail which hath lost its “wag”! But thy heart, oh, my Beloved, is full of lightning changes. Its capacity is inexhaustible.

The memory of yesterday’s kiss is unto thee as the memory of yesterday’s dinner—sweet, but not satisfying.

Yet, though thy heart changeth many times, I, thy wife, am become one of thy habits!

Behold thou hast placed “Mrs.” upon my name; thou hast glorified me with a wedding ring!

Therefore, I am become thy doormat. Yea, I am as thy footstool. I shall mend thy socks with rejoicing, and the replacing of thy buttons shall be my delight.

All the days of thy life, shall I clean thy safety razor and put the studs in thy shirts.

Then, cast thine ashes over my dressing table and strew my carpets with cigar stumps.

Let the awnings of mine house be burned and my lace curtains consumed with fire. I shall not murmur.

For I am my Beloved’s and there is naught else like unto him.

CHAPTER TWO

The Song of Songs, which is the widow’s.

When I was a rib, I spoke as a rib, and all my ways were the ways of a rib.

Lo, I took man seriously, even as he took himself. For him did I rush the breakfast—and keep it waiting.

Unto him did I offer up the palm—and the morning paper. All his opinions were right in mine eyes; and because he said a thing, it was so.

He was the Lord of my Heart, and the Source of mine Income. And in him I saw nothing funny; for my sense of humor had not yet been awakened.

He looked at my hats and mocked them. Yet that inverted salad bowl which he called a “derby” did not arouse my mirth. He waxed satirical at the number of my puffs, and my coiffure was a daily target for his wit. Yet, though he cut all the hair from off his head, and left it to grow upon his face, I felt no merriment.

In his conceit he made of me a human joke. But now that I am become a widow, I see him as he is. Therefore shall I arise and smite him in his vanity.

Lo, what woman shall take men seriously, once she hath been married unto one of these? For he, that seemeth a thing of beauty and wisdom unto many virgins, is but a child in the eyes of his wife.

She knoweth the source of his opinions; and the padding of his shoulders is not hidden from her. His grouches are always with her and his digestion is her burden.

Go to! I have seen him at his mirror when he worked upon the parting of his hair. He hath borrowed my powder for his chin, and with my perfume hath he anointed himself. My nail-polish and my eau de cologne, they were not safe from him.

I have flattered him and beheld his fall. I have said unto him, “My love, thy judgment is above question and thy common sense above praise!”

And he hath smiled, as one that sippeth a wine of a rare vintage. I have cooed unto him saying:

“Lo, thy reasoning powers and thine acumen are greater than those of Sherlock Holmes!”

And I have observed his secret joy.

I have cried out:

“Oh, why didst thou not go upon the stage? For thy shoulders are better than Faversham’s and thy profile than E.H. Sothern’s!”

And he hath straightway proposed!

The youths of the land have I called “Mr. Smith”, and the octogenarians addressed as “Silly Boy”. The fat man have I called “graceful”, and the ourang-outang, “distinguished”.

And all of these were overcome.

Their fairy tales have I outstripped with better fairy tales, and their devices with more subtile devices.

Verily, verily, men are as toys in mine hand; and, even as a child, do I delight to play with them.

Lo, she that fisheth for an husband, laboreth against many odds, but she that fisheth for amusement casteth her nets in pleasant waters, and they shall return unto her heavy laden.

CHAPTER THREE

The Litany of the Summer Girl, which she chanteth continuously, morning and night.

Oh, Lord, deliver me from the deadliness of the Summer Resort, and from all the deadly things therein.

From the emptiness of moonlight evenings without a Man, and the hollowness of life without a flirtation, now preserve me.

From the sentimental grafter and the platonic friend oh spare me!

For, the one seeketh after cheap flirtations, and collecteth kisses, as a woman doth trading stamps. And the other is as a wet powder-rag which sticketh, but availeth nothing. Verily, verily, a breakfast-food without sugar and cream is not more insipid than one of these.

From college youths, which are fresher than spring asparagus and more tender than spring lamb, oh, deliver me! From old bachelors, which are staler than last year’s canned goods, and tougher than cold rarebits, oh, preserve me!

From the hotel “phonograph,” which repeateth the same old love-tunes night after night, year in and year out, oh set me free!

From the impressionist that cometh down over Sunday, deliver me!

For, when he hath loved me with all his heart, and with all his mind, and with all his impudence, for an whole week-end, he shall depart; and the scorners shall delight in their ha-has and the whisperers say, “She was but a temporary distraction!”

From the summer widower, that seeketh to return unto flirtation by a by-path, oh, hide me! For lo, I am not a consolation prize. Neither am I a grafter, coveting other women’s troubles.

From all gossip, and freckles, and tan, and sand-in-the-shoes; from the patronizing bride, and the youth that playeth ragtime; from the bathing suit that shrinketh, and the nose that peeleth; from mosquitoes, and cows and red ants; from hen parties, and springless straw rides, and manless dances, oh, deliver me!

Feed me with bon-bons and stay me with novels!

Lead me beside the full streams, where the fish are plentiful and the fishing worthy of the fishermaiden; that I may, peradventure, find, one eligible, who shall rescue me from the Land of Innocuous Desuetude, and usher me into the Kingdom of Matrimony!

CHAPTER FOUR

The Song of The Debutante which the Wise Virgin chanteth in her heart:

Oh, Providence in thy mercy, I beseech Thee, grant me these three:

A level head, a soft tongue, and a sense of humor! And the greatest of these is a sense of humor.

Lo, I do not ask for wealth, neither for beauty, nor for love; for, having a level head, and a soft tongue, all these things shall be added unto me.

I sigh not for the charms of an houri; and curling hair I shall not crave. Yea, though one husband be all that is granted unto me in this day of Progressive Matrimony, I shall not murmur.

Though my waist-line increaseth, year by year, and my teeth depart one by one, I shall not be cast down. For, a cheerful disposition shall sustain me, and the smile that cometh not off shall keep me charming.

Though chorus girls marry above me; though I never build mine own bungalow; though my frocks be made over, and my complexion made up, I shall not repine. For, behold, I shall not take myself seriously, neither be filled with false illusions concerning men.

Lo, a woman that regardeth herself seriously is a human joke; and a woman that dallyeth with illusions is as a babe that played with matches. She burneth her own fingers.

Though my cooking be deadly, and my shoes “number fives” I shall not despair. For a sense of humor shall cover me as a mackintosh, off which the lemons, that fate casteth at me, shall roll as water. Verily, verily, a woman without a sense of humor is as one that goeth into New Jersey clad in lace hose. She layeth herself bare to constant stings; she suffereth untold pangs.

Then grant me, I pray thee, this one panacea:

That I may laugh when men laugh, and the point of their jokes shall not escape me.

That I may not tremble at their wrath; neither wither under their sarcasm, nor repine at their grouches.

And that, all the days of my youth, I shall dwell in the enjoyment of life, repartee, and the pursuit of an husband! Amen.

CHAPTER FIVE

Incline thine ear, O, my Daughter! For this is the Song of the Bride, which containeth all the law and the “profits” of Matrimony.

I thank thee, O, my Beloved; for thou hast chosen me out of the multitude of women that were after thee.

Thou hast delivered me from spinsterhood and led me into the House of Bondage.

Thy brand is upon me!

I am thy Chattel.

Thy wishes shall be my wishes, thy tastes my tastes, and thy politics my politics.

I shall have no personal opinions before thine and no other thought before thee. Only my tooth brush shall remain of all mine individuality.

For lo, I have said in my heart, “Couldst thou love this man in a shop-made suit and a polka dot tie? Couldst thou love him though he lost his front hair? Couldst thou love him without a collar?” And my heart hath answered:

“Yea, verily! For I am the apple of his eye, and he is the source of mine income. Therefore are we truly mated.”

Then, whatsoever thou doest, my beloved, it shall be right in my sight; and whatsoever thou wearest thou shalt seem beautiful in mine eyes.

Even in thy fishing clothes shall I adore thee; and if thou but concedest to change thy collar and carry one glove when we go forth in public thou shalt appear sufficiently dressy unto me.

I shall take great care of thy digestion, and thy devotion will take care of itself. I shall not practise my cooking upon thee.

I shall believe whatsoever thou tellest me, even when I know it to be false. I shall listen unto thy fairy tales with respect.

I shall delight in thine imagination and the works thereof.

I shall endeavor to like thee; for love passeth as the whirlwind, but friendship is a rock which endureth forever. I shall not laugh at thee, for I am sane.

When thou hookest my frocks crooked I shall not murmur, but shall urge thee on with my cheers and praises. I shall not hear thy mutterings.

I shall remember thy pipe, thy razor, and thy morning newspaper, to keep them holy.

Thy Desk shall be sacred from mine hands. Thou shalt have one hook within the closet.

I shall be a mother unto thee; yet shall I permit thee to treat me as a babe, that thou mayest rest under thy favorite delusion. Whosoever speaketh against thee I shall rend her with my finger nails and my sarcasm.

I shall learn to be happy without thee in order that I may be happy with thee, when thou chancest to be at home.

Thou shalt go thy ways untroubled; for I shall not be thy jailer but thy jollier.

Verily, verily, I shall be all things unto thee; even a wife, an angel, a kitten, a cook, a chum, and a siren.

Yea, I shall be thine whole harem!

SELAH.