THE SILVER QUESTION

by: Oliver Herford (1863-1935)

HE Sun appeared so smug and bright,

One day, that I made bold

To ask him what he did each night

With all his surplus gold.

 

He flushed uncomfortably red,

And would not meet my eye.

"I travel round the world," he said,

"And traveling rates are high."

 

With frigid glance I pierced him through.

He squirmed and changed his tune.

Said he: "I will be frank with you:

I lend it to the Moon.

 

"Poor think!--You know she's growing old

And hasn't any folk.

She suffers terribly from cold,

And half the time she's broke."

 

That evening on the beach I lay

Behind a lonely dune,

And as she rose above the bay

I buttonholed the Moon.

 

"Tell me about that gold," said I.

I saw her features fall.

"You see, it's useless to deny;

The Sun has told me all."

 

"Sir!" she exclaimed, "how can you try

An honest Moon this way?

As for the gold, I put it by

Against a rainy day."

 

I smiled and shook my head. "All right,

If you must know," said she,

"I change it into silver bright

Wherewith to tip the Sea.

 

"He is so faithful and so good,

A most deserving case;

If he should leave, I fear it would

Be hard to fill his place."

 

When asked if they accepted tips,

The waves became so rough,

I thought of those at sea in ships,

And felt I'd said enough.

 

For if one virtue I have learned,

'T is tact; so I forbore

To press the matter, though I burned

To ask one question more.

 

I hate a scene, and do not wish

To be mixed up in gales,

But, oh, I longed to ask the Fish

Whence came their silver scales!

• Oliver Herford: Bibliography - A selected bibliography of the works of Oliver Herford.