Works

I love to picture Daniel Frohman
In costume of a noble Roman.
For Dan has just the style of hair,
That Julius C'sar used to wear.

If you should ask me, whether Dante
Drank Benedictine or Chianti,
I should reply, "I cannot say,
But I can draw him either way."

Behold Belasco in his den,
Wielding the scissors, paste and pen,
And writing with consummate skill
A play by W. De Mille.

At evening when the lamp is lit,
The tired Human People sit
And doze, or turn with solemn looks
The speckled pages of their books.

Then I, the Dangerous Kitten, prowl...

For Perfect Form there are but few
That can compare with Mr. Drew;
A Form most fittingly displayed
In r'les from London, tailor-made
By Messrs. Maughn, Pinero, Jones,
In quiet, gentlemanly tones....

Few faces interest me less
Than Rockefeller's, I confess.
'Twould vastly better suit my whim
To draw his bank account, than him.

Well I recall how first I met
Mark Twain - an infant barely three
Rolling a tiny cigarette
While cooing on his nurse's knee.

Since then in every sort of place...

By the Harp

"Shpeaking of Harps, sure me frind Pete
Has got the Harp of Tara beat,"
Said Mr. Dooley. "Div'l a thing
That boy can't play upon won shtring.
For all the wurrld, to hear him play...

The Dog is black or white or brown
And sometimes spotted like a clown.
He loves to make a foolish noise
And Human Company enjoys.

The Human People pat his head
And teach him to pretend he's dead,...

HERE is the Dog. Since time be-gan,
The Dog has been the friend of MAN,
The Dog loves MAN be-cause he shears
His coat and clips his tail and ears.
MAN loves the Dog be-cause he'll stay...

The Dolphin was, if you should wish
To call him so,--the King of Fish.
Though having neither gills nor scales,
His title should be Prince of Whales.
While too small waisted to provide...

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!


With cooing doves galore
Then may the sky be dark
Until the Dogs of War...

When Human Folk at Table eat,
A Kitten must not mew for meat,
Or jump to grab it from the Dish,
(Unless it happens to be fish).

Not squirrels in the park alone
His love and winter-kindness own.
When Literary Fledglings try
Their wings, in first attempt to fly,
They flutter down to Franklin Square,...