The Poetry Corner

Neither!

By Rose Hawthorne Lathrop

So ancient to myself I seem, I might have crossed grave Styx's stream A year ago; - My word, 'tis so; - And now be wandering with my sires In that rare world we wonder o'er, Half disbelieve, and prize the more! Yet spruce I am, and still can mix My wits with all the sparkling tricks, A youth and girl At twenty's whirl Play round each other's bosom fires, On this brisk earth I once enjoyed: - But now I'm otherwise employed! Am I a thing without a name; A sort of dummy in the game? "Not young, not old:" A world is told Of misery in that lengthened phrase; Yet, gad, although my coat be smooth, My forehead's wrinkled, - that's the truth! I hardly know which road to go. With youth? Perhaps. With age? Oh no! Well, then, with those Who share my woes, Doomed to mere fashionable ways, - Fair matrons, cigarettes, and tea, Sighs, mirrors, and society? Is it a folly still to twirl, And smirk and promenade and querl About the town? I'll put this down: A man becomes downright blast Before he knows that he is either That, or what I am - call it, "Neither." Oh, for a hint what we shall do, We bucks whose comedy is through! Who'd be sedate? And yet I hate To pose persistently to-day As one just trying flights, you know, When I did try them long ago! Suppose I hurry up the tide Of age, and bravely drift beside Those hoary dogs Who lie like logs Around the clubs where life is hushed? My blood runs cold! What? Say farewell To this year's new bewildering belle! Hold, man, the secret broad and huge, With every well-known subterfuge! If bald and gray And thin, still say You're only thirty: don't be crushed; But when your voice shakes o'er a pun, Be off to China: - your day's done!