The Doctor's Window: Poems by the Doctor, for the Doctor, and about the Doctor

And take Doc, now, in AIGGER, say, er cramps; er rheumatiz ;And all afflictions thataway, and he 's the best they is!

Er janders-milksick-I don't keer-k-yore anything he tries,— A felon-er a frost-bit' yeer-er granilated eyes.

There was the Widder Daubenspeck they all give up fer dead— With fits, and " ligture o' the neck," and clean out of her head!— First had this doctor, what's-his-name, from Puddlesburg; and then

This little red-head, "Burnin' Shame," they call him-Dr. Glenn.

And they die.

"CONSULTED " on the case, and claimed she'd haf to

I jes' was joggin' by the place, and heerd her daughter cry,
And stops and calls her to the fence; and I-says-I, “Let ME
Send SIFERS-bet you fifteen cents he'll k-yore her!"
Well," says she,

'LIGHT OUT!" she says.--And, LIPP-TEE-CUT! I loped in town-and rid

'Bout two hours more to FIND him, but I scored him when I did!

He wuz down at the Gunsmith Shop, a-stuffin' birds!

Says he,

My sulky's broke." Says I," You hop right on and ride with me!"'

I GOT him there!

you," Sifers said,

Well, Aunty: ten days K-YORES

But what's yer idy LINGER'N' when they want you OVERHEAD ? " And there's Dave Banks-jes' back from war without a scratch-

one day

Got ketched up in a sickle-bar-a reaper-runaway;—

His shoulders, arms, and hands and legs jes' sawed in strips!And Jake

Dunn starts fer Sifers,-feller begs to SHOOT him, PITY'S-SAKE Doc, 'course, was gone; but he had penned the notice-" A Big Bear

Be back TOMORRY: Gone to 'tend the Bee Convention there.'

TO DR. (AFTERWARDS SIR EDWARD) WILMOT 27

But Jake, he TRACKED him!-rid and rode the whole indurin'

night!

And 'bout the time the roosters crowed they both hove into

sight.

Doc had to AMPITATE-but 'greed to save Dave's arms, and said

He COULD a-saved his LEGS ef he'd got there four hours ahead.

Doc's wife's own mother purt' nigh died onc't 'fore he could be found,

And all the neighbers, fur and wide, a-all jes chasin' round!— Tel finally, I had to laugh,-'t'uz jes like Doc, you know,Was LEARNIN' fer to TELEGRAPH, down at the old Dee-po.

But all they're faultin' Sifers fer, they 's none of 'em kin say He's biggoty, er keerless, er not POSTED anyway;

He ain't built on the common plan o' doctors NOWADAYS,— He's jes' a great big brainy man-that's where the trouble lays!

-JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY.

To Dr. (Afterwards Sir Edward) Wilmot

7ITH doubtful strife, Humanity and Art

WITH

For conquest vie in Wilmot's head and heart.

On his loved son Apollo did bestow

The healing power, and words to soften woe.

With sympathizing eyes and tender mind

He views the maladies of human-kind;

Reprieves the languid patient from the grave,
While Pity soothes whom Medicine cannot save!

-WILLIAM DUNCOMBE.

In a Dissecting Room

IGHTLESS eyes half closed beneath
Long, black lashes curling yet;
Wavy locks the pale face wreathe
With the salty drops still wet.

Lying there so silently

Womanhood reproachful seems; 'Tis a face that we may see

Reappear in troubled dreams.

Lifeless, wasted arm and hand

Stripped of skin by scalpel keen;

Shining tendons, band on band

Ligaments and muscles seen.

Wondrously the fingers move,
Answering to the testing touch

Of each muscle far above,

Whilst the learner marvels much.

Searcher, would that thou couldst find

What mysterious power once moved That dead form! How vain and blind

This long quest of ours has proved!

Now the forceps and the knife
Merciless attack the face
Eagerly with death at strife,

Winning by a swifter pace.

Inch by inch the clinging skin

With reluctance parting shows

Unknown wonders far within.

Sources whence expression flows.

ODE TO A DOCTOR

Tiny threadlike muscles here

Teach the lips to move in smiles; Draw the eyelids tense with fear,

Close them when soft sleep beguiles.

These have knit the brows to frown;

Those have taught the mouth to kiss; Care and pain have oft weighed down Wrinkling forehead's calm with this.

These once spread the nostrils wide
When in anger breath came fast;
Or when blew from ocean's tide

Airs of health caught ere they passed.

Magic house, where sometime dwelt
Spirit, soul, howe 'er 'tis known!
Ah, what thrills thy walls have felt!
Whither has thy tenant flown?

If this ruined home appear

Wonderful beyond compare,

What was then the dweller here

That could vanish into air?

-DR. WILLIAM BURT HARLOW

Ode to a Doctor

HE Doctor comes, and quick prescribes ;

THE

And then, when we are better.

He sends a bill that reads like this:

"To Dr. Cureall, Dr."

For when we're in the grasp of Pain,

And he has come and knocked her,

We surely must admit that we

Are Dr. to our Dr.

-JAMES G. BURNETT.

A Ballade of Busy Doctors

HEN winter pipes in the poplar-tree,

And soles are shod with the snow and sleet-
When sick-room doors close noiselessly,

And doctors hurry along the street;

When the bleak north winds at the gables beat,
And the flaky noon of the night is nigh,
And the reveler's laugh grows obsolete,

Then Death, white Death, is a-driving by.

When the cowering sinner crooks his knee,
At the cradle-side, in suppliance sweet,
And friends converse in a minor key,

And doctors hurry along the street;
When Croesus flies to his country seat,
And castaways in the garrets cry,

And in each house is a "shape and a sheet,"
Then Death, white Death, is a-driving by.

When the blast of the autumn blinds the bee.
And the long rains fall on the ruined wheat,
When a glimmer of green on the pools we see,
And doctors hurry along the street;

When every fellow we chance to meet

Has a fulvous glitter in either eye,

And a weary wobble in both his feet,

Then Death, white Death, is a-driving by.

ENVOY.

When farmers ride at a furious heat,

And doctors hurry along the street,

With brave hearts under a scowling sky,

Then Death, white Death, is a-driving by.

DR. JAMES NEWTON MATTHEWS.

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