The Jokester


He had rounded cheeks of healthy hue,

And eyes deep and sparkling like dew,

A malicious smile and a witty grin—

The kind that laughs with apparent din—,


A pointed nose of sharp protuberance,

And brows alight with stark exuberance,

Hair of black, crisp and clean,

Prim and proper, free of sheen.


Freckles bespeckled in voluminous hordes,

Punctilious and bright, like stars alight,

With lashes strung out like tenuous chords,

With teeth near the chin, always a-grin.


On can here the bells when he speaks,

The wrangling and the clanging rising to peaks

To discord from frowns to a smile's harmony

Like some light-hearted symphony.


And every day I see this fellow sitting in his seat,

Mellow in his smile, eyes e'er replete;

And I, myself, chuckle and laugh a smite from this sight,

With my own smile brilliantly alight.