The Book of Humorous Verse
Chapter 9 : "EXACTLY SO"A |speech|, both pithy and concise, Marks a mind acute and wise; W

"EXACTLY SO"

A |speech|, both pithy and concise, Marks a mind acute and wise; What speech, my friend, say, do you know, Can stand before "Exactly so?"

I have a dear and witty friend Who turns this phrase to every end; None can deny that "Yes" or "No"

Is meant in this "Exactly so."

Or when a bore his ear a.s.sails, Good-humour in his bosom fails, No response from his lips will flow, Save, now and then, "Exactly so."

Is there remark on matters grave That he may wish perchance to waive, Or thinks perhaps is rather slow, He stops it by "Exactly so."

It saves the trouble of a thought-- No sour dispute can thence be sought; It leaves the thing in _statu quo_, This beautiful "Exactly so."

It has another charm, this phrase, For it implies the speaker's praise Of what has just been said--_ergo_-- It pleases, this "Exactly so."

Nor need the conscience feel distress, By answ'ring wrongly "No" or "Yes;"

It 'scapes a falsehood, which is low, And subst.i.tutes "Exactly so."

Each mortal loves to think he's right, That his opinion, too, is bright; Then, Christian, you may soothe your foe By chiming in "Exactly so."

Whoe'er these lines may chance peruse, Of this famed word will see the use, And mention where'er he may go, The praises of "Exactly so."

Of this more could my muse relate, But you, kind reader, I'll not sate; For if I did you'd cry "Hallo!

I've heard enough"--"Exactly so."

_Lady T. Hastings._

COMPANIONS

A TALE OF A GRANDFATHER

I know not of what we ponder'd Or made pretty pretence to talk, As, her hand within mine, we wander'd Tow'rd the pool by the lime-tree walk, While the dew fell in showers from the pa.s.sion flowers And the blush-rose bent on her stalk.

I cannot recall her figure: Was it regal as Juno's own?

Or only a trifle bigger Than the elves who surround the throne Of the Faery Queen, and are seen, I ween, By mortals in dreams alone?

What her eyes were like, I know not: Perhaps they were blurr'd with tears; And perhaps in your skies there glow not (On the contrary) clearer spheres.

No! as to her eyes I am just as wise As you or the cat, my dears.

Her teeth, I presume, were "pearly": But which was she, brunette or blonde?

Her hair, was it quaintly curly, Or as straight as a beadle's wand?

That I fail'd to remark;--it was rather dark And shadowy round the pond.

Then the hand that reposed so snugly In mine,--was it plump or spare?

Was the countenance fair or ugly?

Nay, children, you have me there!

_My_ eyes were p'r'aps blurr'd; and besides I'd heard That it's horribly rude to stare.

And I--was I brusque and surly?

Or oppressively bland and fond?

Was I partial to rising early?

Or why did we twain abscond, All breakfastless, too, from the public view, To prowl by a misty pond?

What pa.s.s'd, what was felt or spoken-- Whether anything pa.s.s'd at all-- And whether the heart was broken That beat under that shelt'ring shawl-- (If shawl she had on, which I doubt)--has gone, Yes, gone from me past recall.

Was I haply the lady's suitor?

Or her uncle? I can't make out-- Ask your governess, dears, or tutor.

For myself, I'm in hopeless doubt As to why we were there, who on earth we were, And, what this is all about.

_Charles Stuart Calverley._

THE SCHOOLMASTER

ABROAD WITH HIS SON

O what harper could worthily harp it, Mine Edward! this wide-stretching wold (Look out _wold_) with its wonderful carpet Of emerald, purple and gold!

Look well at it--also look sharp, it Is getting so cold.

The purple is heather (_erica_); The yellow, gorse--call'd sometimes "whin."

Cruel boys on its p.r.i.c.kles might spike a Green beetle as if on a pin.

You may roll in it, if you would like a Few holes in your skin.

You wouldn't? Then think of how kind you Should be to the insects who crave Your compa.s.sion--and then, look behind you At yon barley-ears! Don't they look brave As they undulate--(_undulate_, mind you, From _unda, a wave_).

The noise of those sheep-bells, how faint it Sounds here--(on account of our height)!

And this hillock itself--who could paint it, With its changes of shadow and light?

Is it not--(never, Eddy, say "ain't it")-- A marvelous sight?

Then yon desolate eerie mora.s.ses.

The haunts of the snipe and the hern-- (I shall question the two upper cla.s.ses On _aquatiles_, when we return)-- Why, I see on them absolute ma.s.ses Of _filix_ or fern.

How it interests e'en a beginner (Or _tiro_) like dear little Ned!

Is he listening? As I am a sinner He's asleep--he is wagging his head.

Wake up! I'll go home to my dinner, And you to your bed.

The boundless ineffable prairie; The splendor of mountain and lake With their hues that seem ever to vary; The mighty pine forests which shake In the wind, and in which the unwary May tread on a snake;

And this wold with its heathery garment-- Are themes undeniably great.

But--although there is not any harm in't-- It's perhaps little good to dilate On their charms to a dull little varmint Of seven or eight.

_Charles Stuart Calverley._