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[Illustration]


_To Stern Critics_

Here's to stern Critics!
  May they some day learn
The forward lookout's
  Better than the stern!


[Illustration]

Here's to her shadow!
May it mark the hours
Upon the sundial of her life--in flowers!


       *       *       *       *       *


                   HAPPY DAYS

                       BY
                 OLIVER HERFORD
                      AND
                 JOHN CECIL CLAY


                    NEW YORK
               MITCHELL KENNERLEY


               COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY
               MITCHELL KENNERLEY


               THE·PLIMPTON·PRESS
               NORWOOD·MASS·U·S·A


       *       *       *       *       *


_CONTENTS_

                            PAGE
TO STERN CRITICS               3
TO HER SHADOW                  4
TO FASHION                     9
TO THE TYPEWRITER             11
THE FLOOR                     12
TO MUSIC                      15
TO THE PUBLISHER              17
HERE'S LOOKING                19
THE DOVE OF PEACE             21
TO THE CLOCK                  23
TO HOPE                       25
TO LIBERTY                    27
STAIRS: A TOAST               29
TO LADY NICOTINE              31
OH, EDITOR, EDITOR!           33
TO THE CREDITOR               35
TO NEPTUNE                    37
TO THE WAITER                 39
TO TEMPTATION                 41
TO THE MAID WITH FANCY FREE   43
TO OUR SWEETHEARTS            45
TO OUR READERS                46


       *       *       *       *       *


[Illustration:]


Fashion! Lovely Dame!
  Pledge in sparkling wine!
Let us add her name
  To the Muses' nine!

Though the lovely Nin
  All should pass away
Why should Woman pine,
  If but Fashion stay?

Tho' the Muses' lore
  Molder on the shelf,
Still may She adore
  In Fashion's glass--Herself.


[Illustration:]


_To The Typewriter_

Here's to the Typewriter!
  Health to her type!
Whether blond or brunette
  Or budding or ripe.
If she be the right type
  Be she buxom or slight,
When she doesn't type wrong
  She is sure to typewrite.


[Illustration]

THE FLOOR

Here's to the floor,
  Our best friend of all,
Who sticks to us close
  In the time of our fall.
When benches are fickle
  And tables betray
And rugs are revolving,
  He meets us half-way.
Our stay and support,
  When we can't stand alone,
With the floor for a backer,
  We'll never be thrown.
Here's to our friend,
  In life's every stage!
Dry nurse of infancy,
  Wet nurse of age!
_A health_ to our floor!
  Supporter and stay;
Though he often be full,
  May he never give way!

[Illustration]


[Illustration:]


_To Music_

Here's to Music,
  Joy of joys!
One man's music's
  Another man's noise.

[Illustration:]


[Illustration:]


To The Publisher!--Drink!
  Let his virtue be shown
In the _Good Works_ of others
  If not in his own.

TO THE PUBLISHER


[Illustration:]


Here's looking
  at you, dear!
    though I should pour
A sea of wine,
  my eyes would
    thirst for more.


[Illustration:]


Here's to the Dove of Peace!
  May she find a mate some day,
And may her tribe increase
  As fast as she can lay!

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With cooing doves galore
  Then may the sky be dark
Until the Dogs of War
  Can't see each other bark!


[Illustration:]


Here's to the Clock!
  Whose hands, we pray heaven,
When we come home at three,
  Have stopped at eleven!

TO THE CLOCK


[Illustration]


Here's to Hope,
  the child of Care,
And pretty sister
  of Despair!
Here's hoping that
  Hope's children shan't
Take after their Grandma
  or Aunt!


[Illustration]


TO LIBERTY

Here's to our Goddess, Liberty,
  Idol of bronze and stone!
May she awake to life some day
  And let her charms be known.


[Illustration]


STAIRS
A TOAST

Here's to the man who invented stairs
  And taught our feet to soar!
He was the first who ever burst
  Into a second floor.

The world would be downstairs to-day
  Had he not found the key;
So let his name go down to fame,
  Whatever it may be.


[Illustration]


TO OUR LADY NICOTINE

Here's to Lady Nicotine!
Saint and Sorceress and Queen!
Saint, whose purple halo rings
Lift our eyes from earthly things;
Witch, whose wand of scented briar
Transmutes dead weeds to fragrant fire;
Queen, whose rod her slaves adore!
What can freedom offer more?


[Illustration]


OH, EDITOR, EDITOR,
  Awful and grand,
Who holdest our fate
  In the palm of thy hand,
Dost ever reflect
  How one day thy ghost
To an Editor awf'ler
  And grander will post?
Before him a great
  Golden scroll is spread wide,
And a bottomless waste-basket
  Yawns at his side.
With a swift searching glance
  He reads through thy soul,
Then he looks at the basket,
  Then looks at the scroll;
He purses his lips
  And nibbles his pen,
And frowns for one long
  Awful moment--and then--
Oh, Editor!--think! if thy
  Poor crumpled soul
Fall into the basket
  And not in the scroll!


[Illustration]


_To The Creditor_

Here's to the Creditor,
  Long may he reign!
May his Faith never waver,
  His Trust never wane.
May the Lord make him gentle
  And gracious and gay,
Yet quick to resent
  The least offer of pay:
May he soften his heart
  As he softened, we're told,
To the Israelite's 'touch,'
  The Egyptian of old;
And when on his last
  Long account he shall look,
The angel will say
  As he closes the book:
"The Lord gives you Credit
  For Credit you gave"!
So here's to the Creditor--
  Long may he waive.


[Illustration]


TO NEPTUNE


A health to King Neptune,
  The boss of the wave!
Who sits on the Ocean
  And makes it behave.
Come fill up your bumpers
  And take a long pull!
When he's calm he's not dry--
  When he rolls, he's not full.

Whether sober or rough,
  He's always a sport,
And we'll never stop toasting him
  Till we're in port.
A jolly old salt,
  Though he smile or he frown.
So here's to King Neptune!
  Fill up! Drink her down!


[Illustration]


We drink your health, O Waiter!
  And may you be preserved
From old age, gout, or sudden death!--
  At least till supper's served.

TO THE WAITER


[Illustration]


Here's to temptation!
Give us strength and grace
Against her witching smile,
To set our face!


[Illustration]


Here's to the maid with Fancy Free;
If Cupid's necromancy
Imprison not her heart, maybe,
It will arrest her Fancy.


[Illustration]


To our Sweethearts and Wives,
The joy of our lives!
May our Wives be our Sweethearts--
Our Sweethearts, our Wives.


_To Our Readers_

Here's to our Readers, Health! good Looks!
And Joy _ad infinitum_
And may they live to read our Books
As long as we may write 'em.


[Illustration]





End of Project Gutenberg's Happy Days, by Oliver Herford and John Cecil Clay