ENFORCED pursuit of silver eagles fleet Gave early haste to my reluctant feet, And so it chanced I hurried—I and Care— At sunrise down a city thoroughfare; But by the grace of some directing fay I met a sight that gladdened me all day. I saw a beer-plump Saxon—Bacchus’ son— His red, round face the symbol of slow fun; Unconscious he of all ’twixt sky and earth Except one soul-engrossing cause of mirth: He dragged a painted sled, and, perched thereon, Sat snug a three-years’ maiden, bright as dawn, And happy as the sparrows chirping round, Crumb-hunting near her on the snowy ground. A sudden turn! a laughing cry, and lo! The sled upsets, and MÄdchen prints the snow. She laughs; I laugh; loud ha-ha’s Bacchus’ son;— Then gravely he,—“By yolly! dot vas fun.” |