To "The Quiet Observer"

I sat me down in pride to gloat Upon the column that you wrote, In which you, sir, were pleased to quote From me and Riley— From me and him, From me and Jim, From me and Riley. The tout ensemble did impel My manly chest to heave and swell; The combination "liked me well;" Me, you and Riley. It seemed a great Triumvirate— Me, You and Riley. But soon in deep humility My head was bowed, and I could see The difference 'tween little ^me And You and Riley. I lacked the art To touch the heart Like you and Riley. You seem to write with greatest ease, Of cheerful mien, of birds and bees, And out-of-doorsy things one sees— And so does Riley. With master-stroke, To common folk Write you and Riley. I take a hack-saw and a square And cut my rhymes with greatest care; 'Tis harder work for me, I swear, Than you and Riley. And yet I fail To hit the nail Like you and Riley. You write in prose—a rhymer he— And yet 't has always seemed to me Your souls alike must surely be— Yours, sir, and Riley's. You love each thing Of which you sing— Do you and Riley.