The Poetry Corner

An Old Year's Address

By James Whitcomb Riley

"I have twankled the strings of the twinkering rain; I have burnished the meteor's mail; I have bridled the wind When he whinnied and whined With a bunch of stars tied to his tail; But my sky-rocket hopes, hanging over the past, Must fuzzle and fazzle and fizzle at last!" I had waded far out in a drizzling dream, And my fancies had spattered my eyes With a vision of dread, With a number ten head, And a form of diminutive size - That wavered and wagged in a singular way As he wound himself up and proceeded to say, - "I have trimmed all my corns with the blade of the moon; I have picked every tooth with a star: And I thrill to recall That I went through it all Like a tune through a tickled guitar. I have ripped up the rainbow and raveled the ends When the sun and myself were particular friends." And pausing again, and producing a sponge And wiping the tears from his eyes, He sank in a chair With a technical air That he struggled in vain to disguise, - For a sigh that he breathed, as I over him leant, Was haunted and hot with a peppermint scent. "Alas!" he continued in quavering tones As a pang rippled over his face, "The life was too fast For the pleasure to last In my very unfortunate case; And I'm going" - he said as he turned to adjust A fuse in his bosom, - "I'm going to - BUST!" I shrieked and awoke with the sullen che-boom Of a five-pounder filling my ears; And a roseate bloom Of a light in the room I saw through the mist of my tears, - But my guest of the night never saw the display, He had fuzzled and fazzled and fizzled away!