Life, 1906-12-06 · page 17 of 64
Life — December 6, 1906 — page 17: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a satirical poem mocking class pretension during the Christmas season. It personifies stockings and socks as characters with different social standings. The narrative contrasts three figures: an expensive silk stocking boasting of her luxurious box and jeweled contents; a pompous sock claiming to hold "rich stocks and bonds / For Banker Millionaire"; and a humble, cheap baby's sock admiring the others with innocent awe. The weaver (representing working-class wisdom) delivers the moral: material wealth and status symbols cannot match the genuine happiness a child experiences on Christmas morning. The satire targets Gilded Age materialism and the obsession with expensive gift-giving among the wealthy, while celebrating modest, heartfelt generosity. The poem's structure mimics the classical Rubaiyat form to mock pretentious literary and social affectation.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
ZIMS SNS FACT AND FANCY A Little Christmas Rubaiyat ‘OR T remember pausing in a room Where ceased a busy weaver from his loom; And from the finished product murmurings Arose as died the great machine’s dull boom. Stockings of many qualities, large, small, Were boxed upon the shelv wall; nd some loquacious stockings were; and some Listen’d, perhaps, but never talked at all. Said onc, and shimmered: “Pray observe my sheen; My silken texture fits me for a queen; And see the handsome box all made for me! T'll swell with jewels Christmas morn, I ween.” Another one, a sock of finest weave, Spoke pompously: “Fie, madam, I perceive Your vanity. /’IZhold rich stocks and bonds For Banker Millionaire on Christmas Eve!” Far on a shelf, in cheap pink paper rolled, A tiny sock, such as for babes are sold, Had heard, and, awed, admiring, murmured low ‘To one: “Ah, beauty!” and to one: “Ab, gold!”” The weaver, overhearing, laughed. “I guess,” Said he, and gave the socklet a caress, “That all the gems and riches they will hold Won't beat your gift—a youngster’s happiness!” Edward Marshell. comicbooks.c m