Thus suddenly brought to a check--
And so, with the foot of his victor
Unceasingly pressing his neck--
He wrote on his face, "I'm a victim," and drifted--a logical wreck.

And farmers, whom he had argued
To corners tight and fast,
Would wink at each other and chuckle,
And grin at him as he passed,
As to say, "My ambitious old fellow, your whiffletree's straightened at
last."

Old Uncle Sammy one morning
Lay down on his comfortless bed,
And Death and he had a discussion,
And Death came out ahead;
And the fact that SHE failed to start him was only because he was dead.

The neighbors laid out their old neighbor,
With homely but tenderest art;
And some of the oldest ones faltered,
And tearfully stood apart;
For the crusty old man had often unguardedly shown them his heart.

But on his face an expression
Of quizzical study lay,
As if he were sounding the angel
Who traveled with him that day,
And laying the pipes down slyly for an argument on the way.