Old Twenty Per Cent.Had much money lent, And 'twas his delight Far into the night Beside his old trunk To lie on a bunk Of blankets and straw, To hear his notes draw. He hears not the song Borne sweetly along Of night bird near by, Or its mate's low reply; No sounds are so sweet In woodland or street As the music that floats From twenty per cent notes. No sunset's bright bars Does he love, or the stars; He sees not the moon Rising high at night's noon, Like a shepherdess fair Herding cloud flocks in air; His eye is intent On twenty per cent. The charm of a flower Hath no hidden power O'er his spirit to win One emotion within Of ecstatic delight. Marred and dim is his sight By a mind only bent On twenty per cent. As he clutches his gold With hands thin and cold A visitor comes Like a ghost from the tombs, And carries him where, I know not, nor care; His debtors all fix His home on the Styx. __J. M. Cavaness.
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Jayhawker Juleps
J. M. Cavaness
(Chanute: Tribune Pub. Co. 1913)
Page 50
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