A SYMPOSIUM

There was a Russian novelist

Whose name was Solugubrious,

The reading circles took him up,

( They'd heard he was salubrious. )

The women's club of Cripple Creek

Soon held a kind of seminar

To learn just what his message was —

You know what bookworms women are.

The tea went round. After five cups

( You should have seen them bury tea )

Dear Mrs. Brown said what she liked

Was the great man's sincerity.

Sweet Mrs. Jones ( how free she was

From all besetting vanity )

Declared that she loved even more

His broad and deep humanity.

Good Mrs. Smith, though she disclaimed

All thought of being critical,

Protested that she found his work

A wee bit analytical.

But Mrs. Black, the President,

Of wisdom found the pinnacle:

She said, “Dear me, I always think

Those Russians are so cynical.”

Well, poor old Solugubrious,

It's true that they had heard of him;

But neither Brown, Jones, Smith, nor Black

Had ever read a word of him!