In Merry Measure

esses we shall grow more dumb Just as our spirits quicken. It may be so. When time shall steal away Our crown of youth with all its golden glory It may be that our love shall grow to be An old too-oft told story. And yet it seems to me, dear, even then, Your freshness gone, and naught but heaven above you, That I shall love to take your hand in mine And tell you how I love you. CHANT OF A GRATEFUL NEW YORKER. CHANT OF. A GRATEFUL NEW YORKER KIND Fate, attend to my strident tale, And note my lot in life, Of which I speak With pride in my cheek, Though it's one of deadly strite. Others there be who suffer with me? A million or more on tap? But I am the man who's next to the man who's hanging on to a strap. On the surface cars, as I fight my way, Or on the third rail ride; Though I'm black and blue, And breathless too, As my ribs sink into my side, Yet with joy I cry, As my way I pry, And my clothes in ribbons flap, For I am the man who's next to the man who's hanging on to a strap. O kind Manhattan! I owe thee much! How may I quite repay This place reserved As I'm jerked and swerved On my million volted way? And thy fostering care I bless, nor swear, As I fll this favored gap, For I am the man who's next to the man who's hanging on to a strap. THEIR LESSON THEY sat at the table, three men gay With the girl who never had learned to play. And their easy smiles were a sight to see As she sai...