_I_ have a tincture--" Said ye first, "Your tincture cannot touch
A case as difficult as th's, my pills are better much."
"Your pills, sir, are too violent." "Your tonic is too weak."
"As I have said, sir, in th's case--" "Permit me, sir, to speak."
And so they argued long and high, and on, and on, and on,
Until they lost their tempers, and an hour or more had gone.
But long before their arguments ye question did decide,
Ye Crow, not waiting for ye end, incontinently died.

YE MORAL

(_is apparent_.)

H. Pyle




[Illustration: Play & Earnest. This is a full page illustrated poem
depicting the wind in fairy form first playing with the tree and then as
a tempest.]

PLAY & EARNEST

Over dewy hill and lea
Merrily
Rushed a mad-cap breeze at play,
And the daisies, like the bright
Stars at night,
Danced and twinkled in its way.