The Elephant.

This is the El-e-phant, who lives
With but one aim - to please.
His i-vo-ry tusk he free-ly gives
To make pi-a-no keys.
One grief he has - how-e'er he tries,
He nev-er can for-get
That one of his e-nor-mous size
Can't be a house-hold pet.
Then does he to his grief give way,
Or sink 'neath sor-row's ban?
Oh, no; in-stead he spends each day
Con-tri-ving some un-sel-fish way
To be of use to Man.

Oliver Herford

Oliver Herford was born in England on December 2, 1860. He was a British-born American writer, artist, and illustrator, often referred to as 'The American Oscar Wilde' for his sharp wit and humorous works. Herford authored and illustrated many books for children and adults, contributing to magazines such as "The Criterion", "Life", and "Punch". He died on July 5, 1935, in France.

Oliver Herford

To Our Lady Nicotine

Oliver Herford, Simple Poetry

To Fashion

Oliver Herford, Simple Poetry

J. Forbes-Robertson

Oliver Herford, Simple Poetry

Winter and Summer

Oliver Herford, Simple Poetry

English

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The Elephant.

Say, nature, on whose wond'rous reign
    Delighted fancy dwells,
Of all thy numerous brutal train
    What animal excells?

What quadruped most nobly vies
    In virtue with mankind,
Like man deliberately wise,
    And resolutely kind?

Beneath a form vast and uncouth
    Such excellence is found:
Sagacious Elephant! thy truth,
    Thy kindness is renown'd.

More mild than sanguinary man,
    Whose servant thou hast prov'd,
Oft in his frantic battle's van
    Thy bulk has stood unmoved:

There oft thy spirit griev'd, to see
    His murd'rous rage encrease,
'Till mad himself, he madden'd thee.
    Thou nobler friend to peace!

Acts of thy courage might occur
    To grace heroic song;
But I thy gentle deeds...

William Hayley

The Ant.

MY child, ob-serve the use-ful Ant,
How hard she works each day.
She works as hard as ad-a-mant
(That's very hard, they say).
She has no time to gal-li-vant;
She has no time to play.
Let Fido chase his tail all day;
Let Kitty play at tag:
She has no time to throw a-way,
She has no tail to wag.
She scurries round from morn till night;
She ne-ver, ne-ver sleeps;
She seiz-es ev-ery-thing in sight,
And drags it home with all her might,
And all she takes she keeps.

Oliver Herford

A Penguin.

THE Pen-guin sits up-on the shore
And loves the lit-tle fish to bore;
He has one en-er-vat-ing joke
That would a very Saint pro-voke:
"The Pen-guin's might-i-er than the Sword-fish";
He tells this dai-ly to the bored fish,
Un-til they are so weak, they float
With-out re-sis-tance down his throat.

Oliver Herford

The Cat.

OB-SERVE the Cat up-on this page.
Phil-os-o-phers in ev-er-y age,
The ver-y wis-est of the wise,
Have tried her mind to an-a-lyze
In vain, for noth-ing can they learn.
She baf-fles them at ev-er-y turn
Like Mis-ter Ham-let in the play.
She leads their rea-son-ing a-stray;
She feigns an in-ter-est in string
Or yarn or any roll-ing thing.
Un-like the Dog, she does not care
With com-mon Man her thoughts to share.
She teach-es us that in life's walk
'T is bet-ter to let oth-ers talk,
And lis-ten while they say in-stead
The fool-ish things we might have said.

Oliver Herford

Elephant And Bookseller.

        The traveller whose undaunted soul
        Sails o'er the seas from pole to pole
        Sees many wonders, which become
        So wonderful they strike one dumb,
        When we in their description view
        Monsters which Adam never knew.
        Yet, on the other hand, the sceptic
        Supplies his moral antiseptic;
        Denying unto truths belief,
        With groans which give his ears relief:
        But truth is stranger far than fiction,
        And outlives sceptic contradiction.
        Read Pliny or old Aldrovandus,
        If - they would say - you understand us.
        Let other monsters stand avaunt,
        And read we of the elephant.

        As one of these, in days of yore,
        Rummaged a stall of antique lo...

John Gay

The Rhinoceros.

SO this is the Rhi-no-ce-ros!
I won-der why he looks so cross.
Per-haps he is an-noyed a bit
Be-cause his cloth-ing does not fit.
(They say he got it read-y made!)
It is not that, I am a-fraid.
He looks so cross be-cause I drew
Him with one horn in-stead of two.

Well, since he cares so much for style,
Let's give him two and see him smile.

Oliver Herford