And it _was_ resky in that den--
Far I think she juggled three cubs then,
And a big "green" lion 'at used to smash
Collar-bones far old Frank Nash;
And I reckon now she hain't fergot
The afternoon old "Nero" sot
His paws on _her_!--but as far me,
It's a sort-of-a mixed-up mystery:--
Kind o' remember an awful roar,
And see her back far the bolted door--
See the cage rock--heerd her call
"God have mercy!" and that was all--
Far they ain't no livin' man can tell
_What_ it's like when a thousand yell
In female tones, and a thousand more
Howl in bass till their throats is sore!
But the keeper said 'at dragged her out,
They heerd some feller laugh and shout--
"Save her! Quick! I've got the cuss!"
And yit she waked and smiled on _us!_
And we daren't flinch, far the doctor said,
Seein' as this man Jones was dead,
Better to jes' not let her know
Nothin' o' that far a week er so.
TO MY GOOD MASTER.
In fancy, always, at thy desk, thrown wide,
Thy most betreasured books ranged neighborly--
The rarest rhymes of every land and sea
And curious tongue--thine old face glorified,--
Thou haltest thy glib quill, and, laughing-eyed,
Givest hale welcome even unto me,
Profaning thus thine attic's sanctity,
To briefly visit, yet to still abide
Enthralled there of thy sorcery of wit,
And thy songs' most exceeding dear conceits.
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