Sonnets of a Budding Bard
Nixon Waterman




Nixon Waterman

Sonnets of a Budding Bard



		Sometimes I get to wishin’ I might be
		A little lamb like Mary’s, fond and true,
		With Susan Sanderson as Mary, see?
		We’d play amidst the clover sweet with dew,
		And everywhere that she wast there’d be me,
		And if she wasn’t, I’dst be elsewhere, too




Lines Wrote in School Whilst I Shouldst Have Been Studyin’ My Lesson


		I’ve just about madest up my mind to be
		A poet such as Shakespeare and the rest
		Of them big literary gents, and dressed
		In velvet clothes, write up the things I see
		In some grand style to show that Browning he

		Hast been done up! And when plain folks request
		My autograph, then, throwin’ out my chest,
		I’llst make them wish that they wast great like me!

		I’m tired dwellin’ midst surroundin’s where
		Cheap things art always waitin’ to be done:
		I’dst rather loaf and dream and have long hair
		Like all great poets dost: and, oh! what fun,
		To dash off lays and sell them, then and there,
		Whenever I’llst be needin’ any “mon.”




Thoughts Thought Whilst Thinkin’ about Mary and Her Pet Lamb


		Full oft I’ve read how Mary’s lamb didst go
		Where’er his kind and lovin’ mistress went,
		As if the little creature wast content
		If it couldst only be where she wast. Oh,
		I realize what madest it hanker so
		To be in school that day: it surely meant
		It loved her! Yet, that mean old teacher bent
		On bossin’ things – he didst not seem to know.

		Sometimes I get to wishin’ I might be
		A little lamb like Mary’s, fond and true,
		With Susan Sanderson as Mary, see?
		We’d play amidst the clover sweet with dew,
		And everywhere that she wast there’d be me,
		And if she wasn’t, I’dst be elsewhere, too.




Lines Wrote Whilst Thinkin’ about How Pa Acts When Dressin’ Up


		Whilst pa and ma art dressin’ up to go
		To church or somewhere, so I’ve heard ma tell
		The neighbor women, pa tears ’round pell-mell
		And turns things upside down, and wants to know
		Who hid his clothes! and makes ma stop and show
		Him where to find them. Ma she know’st full well
		They’re where he’s kept them since he earnest to dwell
		In our house: that’s been twenty years or so.

		And when ma’s donest her level best to try
		To help pa so he wilt not fuss and fret,
		And found his clothes, shoes, collar, cuffs and tie,
		And there ain’t nothin’ more for her to get,
		Pa looks at her and with an awful sigh
		Says: “Thunderation! Ain’t you ready yet?”




Lines Wrote Whilst Realizin’ We Oughtst to Be Kind to Dumb Brutes


		Wise William Goat, familiarly addressed
		As “Billy!” Thou art an amusin’ brute,
		For thou hast some traits that are truly cute
		And others, still, so it must be confessed,
		That I hast learned in sorrow to detest.
		’Tis fun to see thee, in thy manner mute,
		When boys dost tease thee, give some one a “beaut,”
		Yet, he who’s “it” deems thee a sorry jest.

		Yestreen I met some other boys, and we,
		At thy expense, wert havin’ much delight
		Till thou got’st ’round to where I didst not see
		That thou wast headed my way. Sorry plight!
		That’s why I write this standin’ – woe is me! —
		And slept’st upon my bosom all last night.




Sonnet Wrote Whilst Thinkin’ of Our Parents in the Garden of Eden


		O Adam and O Eve! How very nice
		It must have been to live where you wast at.
		No neighbors anywhere with whom to spat,
		Nor any one to give you free advice.
		Ma says she’d gladly pay ’most any price
		For such a lay-out. And she’s certain that
		Because there wert no servants in your flat
		Is how you camest to call it “Paradise.”

		And pa says that if Eve hadst dressed the way
		Our women do we shouldst have missed the fate
		Of goin’ forth into the world to stray,
		For she’d be somewhere, still, inside the gate
		Delayin’ things, as women dost to-day,
		A-tryin’ for to pin her hat on straight.




Lines Wrote Whilst Smartin’ from Punishment Received for Lyin’


		O Washington! (O Reader, hast thou not
		In readin’ high-toned poems wrote for show,
		Observed how many of them start with “O?”
		Well, anyhow, there is an awful lot.)
		The noble deeds thou wrought’st are not forgot
		But serve to make thy name, where’er we go,
		A household word. If all they say is so
		Thou didst some mighty clever stunts. That’s what!

		And yet, thy fame belongest to thy dad;
		Thou shinest by reflected light, forsooth,
		For thou ’rt the only boy that ever had
		A pa who, when his son dared tell the truth
		About some kiddish prank didst not get mad
		And lamm him! O thou heaven-protected youth!




Thoughts Thought about Ma’s Notions Regardin’ Love and House-keepin’


		When sister Maymie saidst she’d like to learn




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