Eugene Field, a Study in Heredity and Contradictions — Volume 2 by Slason Thompson
page 49 of 313 (15%)
page 49 of 313 (15%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
And even that majestic roar
Of breakers on the northern shore Sank to a murmur low; The winds recoiled and cried, "I' sooth, Until we heard this 'Frisco youth, We reckoned we could blow!" Sir Slosson paled with pent-up ire-- His eyes emitted fitful fire-- With rage his blood congealed; Yet, exercising sweet restraint, He swore no vow and breathed no plaint-- But pined for Good Old Field. The ladies, too, we dare to say, (If they survived that fateful day), Eschew all 'Frisco men, Who, as perchance you have inferred, Won't let a person get a word In edgewise now and then._ The subject of the good-natured and clever satire was our mutual friend, Barbour Lathrop, with whom I had been associated in journalism in San Francisco and who is famous from the Bohemian Club literally around the globe and in many of its most out-of-the-way islands as a most entertaining, albeit incessant, story-teller and conversationalist. Pretty nearly all subjects that interest humanity have engaged his attention. He could no more rest from travel than Ulysses; and he brought to those he associated with all the fruits that faring forth in strange lands could give to a mind singularly alert for education |
|