Captain Billy's Whiz Bang, April 1922 · page 46 of 67
Captain Billy's Whiz Bang #32 — page 46: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains two distinct literary pieces from this satirical magazine. The first is a dramatic romantic poem depicting a tragic love story set in a church—a woman who has died (apparently from shame over unreturned love), and her lover's anguished final visit, expressing despair at having lost his soul while she gains heaven. The second piece, "Do It Now," is practical moral verse urging readers to offer praise and approval to people while they're alive, rather than waiting until they're dead. It satirizes human tendency to withhold kind words and wait until funerals or tombstones to express appreciation. The satire is gentle and moralizing: the poem mocks our procrastination and indifference, arguing that sincere friendship and verbal encouragement matter more than posthumous fame or wealth. The juxtaposition suggests *Whiz Bang's* mix of sentimental melodrama alongside folksy wisdom about human nature.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Captain Billy's Whiz Bang 45 Knew how the shame of hopeless love confessed And unreturned had seemed to stain her breast, Till only death should make her clean again. They left her in the church where sunbeams bright Gilded the wreathed oak and carven stone With golden floods of consecrating light; And here at last, together and alone, The lovers met, and here upon her hair He set his lips, and, dry-eyed, kissed her face, And in the stillness of the holy place He spoke in tones of bitter, blank despair: "Oh, lips so quiet, eyes that will not see! Oh, clinging hands that not again will cling! This last poor sin may well be pardoned thee, Since for the right's sake thou hast done this thing. Oh, poor weak heart, forever laid to rest, That could no longer strive against its face, For thee high heaven will unbar its gate, And thou shalt enter in and shalt be blessed. "The chances were the same for us," he said, "Yet thou has won, and I have lost, the whole; Thou would's not live in sin, and thou art dead— But I—against thee—I have weighed my soul, And, losing thee, have lost my soul as well. I have cursed God, and trampled on His cross; Earth has no measurement for all my loss, But I shall learn to measure it in hell!" * * * Do It Now If with pleasure you are viewing any work a man is doing, If you like him or you love him; tell him now; Don't withhold your approbation 'til the parson makes oration And he lies with snowy liles o'er his brow. For no matter how you shout it, he won't really care about it; He won't know how many teardrops you have shed; If you think some praise is due him, now's the time to slip it to him, For he cannot read his tombstone when he's dead. More than fame and more than money is the comment kind and sunny, The hearty, warm approval of a friend,