boundless joy, As I observed the human race, Go past at such a frantic pace. 

   "Take me to the shining sea, That I may rhyme more prettily, And catch the muse of setting sun--"   The poem begged, and made me run. 

   I hastened after sea and sun, But wondered where could be the fun, Of rhyming in a better way, Tomorrow than in yesterday. 

   "To the forest!" cried the poem,   "I'll make you feel right at home!"   But all I felt was just the breeze, As I collapsed beneath the trees. 

   "It's no use running anyhow,"   I said, "You rhyme no better now."   "Then leave," it sighed, "me on the grass, To call to those who hurry past..." 

   THE PLANET PRIMER. 

   The Sun. 

   Blazing, burning, golden orb, Shines that others may absorb. 

   Mercury. 

   Freezing cold, seething blast, Spins but once, in orbit fast. 

   Venus. 

   Beauty, brightness, hovering, Veiled in her torrid fling. 

   Earth--and the Moon. 

   One alive, the other void, Double, whirling planetoid. 

   Mars. 

   Red, dun, magenta, gold, Crumbled ramparts, growing old. 

   The Asteroids. 

   Once a ball and now a ring, Composed of almost everything. 

   Jupiter. 

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