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Page 19 text:
“
How quickly the ultra-violet rays Were snatched and annexed by the wretched thieves, By the frayed and withering petals and leaves, As sunward they rushed in a loving gaze ! The scent of the violet and the rose, It even tickled the tower-clock ' s nose And the swallow under the eaves. No color, no tint, no faintest hue. But made at once a brighter show ; And everywhere a vigorous glow. And there was many a startling view. The powerful onion leaped to his feet And so did the ultra-fiery beet And the carrot from down below. Just then with many a Gee ! and Ho ! The teamster hauled another load Of brick and sand. It overflowed On face and body, on limb and toe Of every tender plant and flow ' r That to this self-same noonday hour New life and beauty owed. Though angels retain their robes of white, Whatever the state of sky and sun, The ultra ray has yet begun To color the earthbound ghost and sprite With drapery of bluish haze, Of earthly eyes the wondering gaze With spirit-blue to stun. And visibly did the violet veil Contract into definite figure and shape Of ambling mantle and ample cape. He tried his best to look deathly pale. He shook his fist at teamster and team. At mortar and brick and sandy stream. From which there is no escape. However, his ultra-violent wrath. Subdued by the ultra-violet ray, At length to groans and sobs gave way. His tender wards along every path. As on the sand to this day appears, He bedewed with ultra-violet tears In sad and dismal survey. The clock struck one instead of thirteen. Curbing her love of idle talk. The spirit fled from the garden-walk And vanished behind a bluish screen. When sand and brick again were sown All over the garden, all hope had flown For flower and leaf and stalk. As the clock struck one, the sun resumed With joyful heart his westward way And conscious of a higher sway. The ancient garden indeed was doomed. But many a clock and many a flow ' r Henceforth will seek his healing pow ' r And bless the ultra ray. What neither clock nor sun could see. Is written over bricks and sands, Here shall of tender human plants A greenhouse and a garden be In ultra-ultra-violet glee. And when the spirit next appears, We ' ll dry his ultra-violet tears And turn his groans to chants.
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Page 18 text:
“
The New Dormitory, or, The Ultra- Violet Rays {Prof. Carl Bauer.) The midday sun in its lazy course Stood still over garden and field. The tower-clock, twelve strokes it pealed With rusty voice and hoarse, As much as to say, It is no fun To be encaged, while the radiant sun New health to me could yield. My face is parched, but my back is cold. How I envv the plants that know no ills. While I am sick with noonday chills ! Oh, what a delight it must be to un- fold Each member and limb to the quick- ening gaze Of the new-found ultra-violet rays And feel their chemical thrills! A spy and a gossip was the clock. With eager face her watch she kept, So eager that she never slept. She knew the gardener ' s flowery flock, His business and its ins and outs And everybody ' s whereabouts — And no one more adept. With rasping tongue she now pro- claimed The latest secret of the day, The power of the ultra ray, When scarce the sun himself had named And tried his unsuspected art, As he carelessly shot each fiery dart Along his heavenly way. The sun was drowsy, but now he awoke. Aroused by the gossip ' s tattling speech. Then, bending down, for his darts to reach, And scanning the sky, to himself he spoke, I ' ll just take the time to demonstrate How I can cure at the fastest rate To shame each quack and leech. From the bottom of his lingering car He took the ultra-violet rays, Displaying them to the heavenly gaze. And all the angels both near and far Came to see and touch the cold-hot spears. Unknown to sublimest human seers. Unknown to medical praise. And all of a sudden the face of the clock Took on a deeper and healthier tan. And her hands an easier movement began, And removed was each pimple and pock. You know she is of a curious race. Her armless hands in the midst of her face By a most ingenious plan. But the cleverest ultra-violet knack Was the way he cured the twitch and twinge In every joint and every hinge From the face clear through to the shaded back. When next the clock her message spoke. It was by a clear and resonant stroke With a strong ultra-violet tinge. Hard by in the same secluded spot Was another patient in need of his aid. So yet another while he staid To relieve a still more pitiful lot. The garden of flowers and nourishing plants Was submerged under loads of bricks and sands As if starved by a hunger-blockade.
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