The bashful earthquake & other fables and verses . 100. A GAS-LOG EEVEEIE. As I sit, inanely staring In the Gas-logs lambent flame,Far away my fancy s faring To a land without a name, —To the country of Invention, Where I roam in all things are mere pretension, Nothing what it seems to be. Folded in a calm serenic, On a jute-bank I recline,Where, mid moss of hue arsenic, Millinery flowers blooms — glass-dew beshowered. Gay with colors aniline,Ever eagerly devoured By the mild, condensed milch Now the scene idyllic changes From the meadows aniline,And my f

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The bashful earthquake & other fables and verses . 100. A GAS-LOG EEVEEIE. As I sit, inanely staring In the Gas-logs lambent flame,Far away my fancy s faring To a land without a name, —To the country of Invention, Where I roam in all things are mere pretension, Nothing what it seems to be. Folded in a calm serenic, On a jute-bank I recline,Where, mid moss of hue arsenic, Millinery flowers blooms — glass-dew beshowered. Gay with colors aniline,Ever eagerly devoured By the mild, condensed milch Now the scene idyllic changes From the meadows aniline,And my faltering fancy ranges Down a dismal, deep decline. Scene of some age past upheaval. Where no foot of man has fared,To a Gas-log grove primeval, Where I find me, mute, and scaredOf — I know not — Goblins, Banshees, And the ancient Gas-trees tossGnarled and flickering giant branches. Hoary with asbestos moss. Now I come to where are waving Painted palms, precisely planned,Kearing trunks of cocoa shaving. By electric zephyrs me wi

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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, bookpublishernewyorkcscribnerss