ELIAS LYMAN.

ELIAS LYMAN.
549.7

Elias Lyman loves to lle
Helies all morning in the shade
And when the sun at noon gets high
He lles where fresher made. shade is
He lies around all afternoon
And talks about the days gone by:
Beneath the silver silent moon
He loves to lie around and lie.

He lles upon the riverside,
His float upon the ripples lies-
His fishing talent, when applied,
Will make you murmur with sur- prise.
He lles upon the mountains, too,
When he is on his hunting trips;
He lies upon the ocean blue
When he is gazing at the ships.

Ellas lies on summer nights
Upon a hammock ‘neath the trees;
In winter when the blizzard bites
He lies about and says he’ll freeze:
He lies abed till half-past eight-
Should you peep through his bed- room door
You’ll see this wonder, sure as fate,
His clothes are lying on the floor.

Ellas Lyman lies about
A great deal more than you or I:
Of this there’s never been a doubt;
He loves to lle around and lie.
Some day we’ll stand beside his tomb
And sadly wipe our tearful eyes,
And read, with deep-drawn sighs of gloom.
This: “Here Elias Lyman lies.”
-Chicago Evening Post.