Alfred Islay Walden

My book is largely growing;
Its leaves are multiplied;
Its pages are much longer,
And nearly twice as wide.

At first I thought the reader
Had not the time to spare,
To hail my little volume
As it floated in the air.

I thought perhaps while floating
Away through empty space,
Perchance would there discover
Some long forgotten race.

Oh! had I now an overcoat,
For I am nearly freezing;
My head and lungs are stopped with cold,
And often I am sneezing.

And, too, while passing through the street,
Where merchants all are greeting,
They say, young man this is the coat
That you should wear to meeting.

Then, looking down upon my feet,
For there my boots are bursting,
With upturned heels and grinning toes,
With tacks which long were rusting.