"Spike" Speaks

These thirty years I've seen the ceaseless flow Of you whom I'm supposed to represent, Who steal into Minerva's firmament And light your candles from her fire's glow;

You've been a world in miniature, you know,

—Nonsense and wisdom curiously blent, These thirty years

You turn my pages idly and then go

To your appointed tasks, your moment spent—

I chronicle your passing, quite content—

It has been good to view your passing show

These thirty years.

H. R. B.