Black Beetles in Amber

A Jack-at-all-Views

So, Estee, you are still alive! I thought

That you had died and were a blessed ghost

I know at least your coffin once was bought

With Railroad money; and 'twas said by most

Historians that Stanford made a boast

The seller "threw you in." That goes for naught--

Man takes delight in fancy's fine inventions,

And woman too, 'tis said, if they are French ones.

Do you remember, Estee--ah, 'twas long

And long ago!--how fierce you grew and hot

When anything impeded the straight, strong,

Wild sweep of the great billow you had got

Atop of, like a swimmer bold? Great Scott!

How fine your wavemanship! How loud your song

Of "Down with railroads!" When the wave subsided

And left you stranded you were much divided.

Then for a time you were content to wade

The waters of the "robber barons'" moat.

To fetch, and carry was your humble trade,

And ferry Stanford over in a boat,

Well paid if he bestowed the kindly groat

And spoke you fair and called you pretty maid.

And when his stomach seemed a bit unsteady

You got your serviceable basin ready.

Strange man! how odd to see you, smug and spruce,

There at Chicago, burrowed in a Chair,

Not made to measure and a deal too loose,

And see you lift your little arm and swear

Democracy shall be no more! If it's a fair

And civil question, and not too abstruse,

Were you elected as a "robber baron,"

Or as a Communist whose teeth had hair on?