From the Rock Island Argus, January 16, 1913. By S. E. Kiser. A lovely girl whom I could name, but who shall not be here betrayed, Remained within a nook with me one evening when the harpist played; Perhaps it was the pleasing air, emerging from the tuneful strings That caused me while we lingered there to speak to her of love and things. I slipped my arm around her waist and felt her soft cheek close to mine; I think she sweetly yielded thus because the music was divine; I whispered in her dainty ear things she no doubt had heard before, But she was glad, it seemed, to hear and listened patiently for more. We lingered there, not caring what the others, missing us, might say; We stood within a shaded niche and listened to the harpist play. Alas! The sequel I’d suppress if I might do as I’d prefer; But while our lips were joined I guess I got some active germs from her. I’ve been flat on my back a week, but one thought comes to make me glad; Within my being I possess germs that the lovely maid once had— Germs that were part of her, in fact, therefore it seems that we somehow Must bear relationship we lacked, and may be cousins germ-an now.