Judge, 1917-04-21 · page 3 of 32
Judge — April 21, 1917 — page 3: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This poem satirizes wealthy suburbanites who commute to the city. The decorative border features trains and automobiles—the era's modern transportation. The satire targets the contradiction of suburban villa life: residents fled the city's "heat and fleas" for a peaceful rural retreat, yet now complain about the commute. Lines like "Forty minutes from City Hall" emphasize their paradox—they want both escape AND urban convenience. The poem mocks their pretensions: they possess "styled prospectus and classic lies," suggesting false advertising about suburban living. References to "train-bound commuter-hind" and seasonal hardships ("During the Winter the town we prize / Glow anew with the Siren's thrall") ridicule their seasonal migrations and romantic delusions about country life. Essentially: early 20th-century suburban commuters are exposed as hypocrites seeking impossible contradictions.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
britlavit Ballade of the Villa-Dwellers By F. GREGORY WARTSWICK I 'HEN Hadrian warred and Maecenas dined And Horace was writing his smiles and sighs, What did they do when the Tyrrhene wind Brought mosquitoes and heat and flies? History, questioned, thus replies: They took a villa, that was all, Perched on a sun-drenched, wind-swept rise Forty minutes from City Hall. I Many the agents who designed With styled prospectus and classic lies Neatly to snare the Roman mind, Leaving no passage for “buts” and ‘whys’: “Tibur-on-Anio—splendid buys— Cha tion—lease till Fall— You'll take a lot there, if you're wise, Forty minutes from City Hall.” WL Annual frailty of humankind! During the Winter the town we prize, Scorning the train-bound commuter-hind; But when the May-light blues the skies Then do our tower-worn, street-dimmed eyes Glow anew with the Siren’s thrall— Each to his suburb-refuge hies, Forty minutes from City Hall. L'ENVOI Prince, your city-joys none denies; Still—run out and pay us a call! “Nice little place in East Paradise, Forty minutes from City Hall.