The Miser

The Miser.

191.6

There area was a miser of lauantar and umilen
Who hoarded those transures in fast mounting

He kept them all sealed in an vary box.
And nothing that happened unfastened the locks

At last, growing aget, from business adrift,
He planned to enjoy the results of his thrift.

The bout of ble store the diarovered, with tears
Was stolen away by the slow thieving years

The moth on the smties had been feasting betimou.
And rust had corroded the strery chimes.

Too late for the miser of laughter and smiles
He wrested the secret of saying and wilas-

To swatter those slches abroad in the air,
For moth, rust, nor robier can plifer them thern
-Melandburgh Wilson in New York Ban.