From the oven hot and steaming,
With the ruby bubbles gleaming,

As they boil up through the craters in little puffs and sighs,

There's resistless invitation
To the palate's delectation

In the odor and the look of those "poetic" cherry pies.
 

Oh, their juice than wine is richer!
It is poured from out the pitcher

Where is stored the luscious nectar distilled at summer's
       prime.

Show these pies to Doctor Tanner,
He would forthwith strike his banner

And put off the fasting racket to a more convenient time.
 

At the long day's slow expiring,
At the still hour of retiring,

Would you woo such sleep as cometh with dreams of lurid
       dye?

Then eat a "heavenly doughnut,"
Looped up in a double bow-knot,

A slice of bread "angelic," and a piece of cherry pie.
 

But if, instead of dreaming,
Your brain with thought is teeming,

And you wish to make a strike in thc paragraphic line,

avenly doughnut,
Looped up in a double bow-knot,

And likewise the pie poetic, O dear Del Valentine!

^__Ellen P. Allerton.