In Other Words/The Lost Wheeze
The Lost Wheeze
Seated last night at my table I was laboring for a laughTo work into this here colyum, In the form of a paragraph.
I know not what I was thinking, Or what was within my brain,But I struck one chord of humor That was better than all Mark Twain.
It flooded my littered table And my chair of mission oak,And I said, in my modest manner, To myself “That is sure some joke!”
It quieted pain and sorrow Like love overcoming strife,It made me forget the premium Due on my well-known life.
It would have made me famous All over the East and West,All people would have pointed To the Author of that Great Jest.
I have sought, but I seek it vainly, That one Lost Wheeze divineThat one last word in humor, That was-to-be-deathless line!
It may be that Death’s bright Angel Will slip me that joke, I guess,But that does me no good this morning When the page is going to press.