A POLITICAL VIOLETCome, Stanford, let us sit at easeAnd talk as old friends do.You talk of anything you please,And I will talk of you.You recently have said, I hear,That you would like to goTo serve as Senator. That's queer!Have you told William Stow?Once when the Legislature said:"Go, Stanford, and be great!"You lifted up your Jovian headAnd everlooked the State.As one made leisurely awake,You lightly rubbed your eyesAnd answered: "Thank you—please to makeA note of my surprise."But who are they who skulk aside,As to get out of reach,And in their clothing strive to hideThree thousand dollars each?"Not members of your body, sure?No, that can hardly be:All statesmen, I suppose, are pure.What! there are rogues? Dear me!"You added, you'll recall, that thoughYou were surprised and pained,You thought, upon the whole, you'd go,And in that mind remained.Now, what so great a change has wroughtThat you so frankly speakOf "seeking" honors once unsoughtBecause you "scorned to seek"?Do you not fear the grave reproofIn good Creed Haymond's eye?Will Stephen Gage not stand aloofAnd pass you coldly by?O, fear you not that Vrooman's lichWill rise from earth and pointAt you a scornful finger whichMay lack, perchance, a joint?Go, Stanford, where the violets grow,And join their modest train.Await the work of William StowAnd be surprised again.
Come, Stanford, let us sit at easeAnd talk as old friends do.You talk of anything you please,And I will talk of you.You recently have said, I hear,That you would like to goTo serve as Senator. That's queer!Have you told William Stow?Once when the Legislature said:"Go, Stanford, and be great!"You lifted up your Jovian headAnd everlooked the State.As one made leisurely awake,You lightly rubbed your eyesAnd answered: "Thank you—please to makeA note of my surprise."But who are they who skulk aside,As to get out of reach,And in their clothing strive to hideThree thousand dollars each?"Not members of your body, sure?No, that can hardly be:All statesmen, I suppose, are pure.What! there are rogues? Dear me!"You added, you'll recall, that thoughYou were surprised and pained,You thought, upon the whole, you'd go,And in that mind remained.Now, what so great a change has wroughtThat you so frankly speakOf "seeking" honors once unsoughtBecause you "scorned to seek"?Do you not fear the grave reproofIn good Creed Haymond's eye?Will Stephen Gage not stand aloofAnd pass you coldly by?O, fear you not that Vrooman's lichWill rise from earth and pointAt you a scornful finger whichMay lack, perchance, a joint?Go, Stanford, where the violets grow,And join their modest train.Await the work of William StowAnd be surprised again.