Life, 1890-03-06 · page 8 of 16
Life — March 6, 1890 — page 8: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page 136 Analysis This page contains poetry and illustrations rather than political cartoons. "The Bonbonnière" is a romantic poem about longing for a woman, accompanied by an architectural sketch of an ornate building entrance. Below is an illustration captioned "Midwinter, 1890" showing two men in winter coats having a conversation. The accompanying dialogue suggests one man complaining about missing spring flowers and blossoms while mosquitoes ruined his season—a humorous complaint about seasonal inconveniences. "Circumstances Alter Cases" is another poem about romantic loss and separation, referencing a Lily Maid and memories of a pier encounter. The page is primarily *literary* rather than satirical—featuring verse and gentle illustrative humor about seasonal discomfort and romance rather than political commentary or social critique.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
* LIFE: THE BONBONNIERE. ’ IS good to be at home and rest one’s soul And legs, alone, before one’s grate; And proper, too—the hour is late, The baker's up who makes my morning roll— ‘An early bird who curses fate, I have no doubt, and thinks if he were me He'd never be awake at half-past three A.M. He knows not I'm a dancing man, Nor all the joyous term implies ! (What color would one call her eyes?) Yet there are things which compensate the plan Eternal. Humph! To moralize Is scarce my forte, and yet I'm in the vein; The terrapin it must be—and champagne. Well, speed the supper !—Whew ! What's this? Now I'm No kleptomaniac I swear, Yet here is Bessie’s bonbonniére In my coat pocket, and with neither rhyme Nor reason as to why it's there. “Stay, but a little"—we were waltzing; she, Burdened with flowers, gave the box to me. The music played ‘‘Mon Réve.” Waldtenfel sure Recalled such feelings when he wrote As mine—she is so near/—no note meen ey! Jy’ MIDWINTER, 1890. Scrages: WHAT IN THE WORLD Is THE MATTER WITH YOUR PACE Braggs: On, 1 Was OUT IN THE FIELDS YESTERDAY, GATHER- ING SPRING FLOWERS AND APPLE BLOSSOMS, AND GOT ALL BITTEN UP BY MOSQUITOES, CIRCUMSTANCES ALTER CASES. But echoed that—so fair, so pure. I longed to kiss her hair, her throat, And tell her how my home was incomplete Without herself, the sweetest of the sweet. As once the Lily Maid observed the shield Left to her charge by Lancelot, So do I scan each scratch and spot On this refreshing refuge in a field Of merry war, where 'gainst the shot Of glances bold and flattery’s tedious tale, Nor covert frown nor open smile prevail. That mighty blow was given at the Pier By some unsympathetic stone, The day I met her out alone. I find therein a grateful souvenir, Although feccavi 1 must groan, For as we said good-bye, both soft brown hands I clasped, and what they held fell on the sands. But this, and this, Alas, these other dints Remind me there are other men Abroad to woo and win, and then Eat all of her Italian peppermints, No time to lose! Quick, trusty pen, T'll send the box to her at dawn, and you Shall help me place therein a dillet-doux, Collins Sturtevant, comicbooks.com