The Book of Humorous Verse

In Short

The Book of Humorous Verse is a grand, sweeping treasury of comic poetry compiled by Carolyn Wells. Gathering light verse, literary parodies, satirical portraiture, and pure nonsense from across the English-speaking world, the volume spans centuries of witty writing. It ranges from the biting social observational poems of classical writers to nineteenth-century American regional humor, Victorian parodies, and early twentieth-century magazine verse. Rather than forcing these varied selections into rigid, formal structures, the anthology showcases the sheer breadth of human levity—capturing everything from romantic mishaps and absurd folklore to institutional satire and playful existential absurdity. Its enduring appeal lies in its refusal to take life, literature, or human pretension too seriously, presenting a comprehensive archive of what made readers laugh across generations.

The Story

The volume opens on a note of exhaustion and absurdity born from the realities of conflict and modern life. A soldier enduring the misery of World War I looks past the horrors of battle toward a peaceful future where he might buy a tortoise to watch it sprint or keep a silkworm's egg to listen to it think. This retreat into quiet silliness sets the stage for a broader survey of human eccentricity. Everyday domesticity yields its own absurdities: a lover flees romantic dining rooms not out of heartbreak, but to escape being spitted by the dangerous, bristling hatpins of his beloved; another suitor carefully calculates that true martial bliss requires precisely three wives—one for public show, one for witty companionship, and one to manage the household.

As the collection advances, it turns its gaze toward regional folklore and tall tales. In Ireland, legend tells of Saint Patrick miraculously converting a leg of mutton into a salmon on a Friday fast day before driving every snake into the Atlantic Ocean. In a rustic schoolhouse, a schoolmaster nods approvingly as his young pupil confidently explains that Sir Isaac Newton broke his crown falling out of an apple tree, and that Rob Roy was a tailor banished to the Highlands for ruining a pair of breeches. Meanwhile, on the American stage circuit, a weary actress confides to her friend Mabel about the trials of cheap hotels, brute managers, and useless admirers who promise stardom but fail to buy dinner.

The realm of romance provides endless fodder for comedic deflation. In classical pastoral scenes, a painter finds himself unable to capture his lady's likeness because her brilliant eyes outshine the sky itself, forcing her to shut them so he can paint. Elsewhere, an anxious suitor struggles to propose until he seizes a purring tabby cat, using the animal as a furry proxy to ask the fateful question. Love is described not as a divine spark, but as a complex combination lock inside a woman's chest, picked dial by dial through sighs, sincere words, and soft embraces until a final kiss pops the door open. Yet romance rarely goes smoothly: a lady flees her father’s wrath with her beau across a stormy river, only to make sure she hasn't left behind her father's purse, while an old man looks back on sitting on a stone wall with his sweetheart forty years prior, reflecting on time's passage.

The collection then shifts into sharp satire aimed at social philosophy, literary high-mindedness, and solemn institutions. Positivist thinkers who claim humanity is its own god and suggest that marriage is an obsolete relic are mocked alongside grand philosophical declarations. When a man boldly proclaims his existence to the universe, the universe dryly replies that the fact creates no sense of obligation whatsoever. A moralizing "Friend of Humanity" attempts to offer elevated political sympathy to a weary knife-grinder, only to be rebuffed by a man who simply wants a drink and has no interest in high-minded radicalism. Even religion and intellectual pride undergo scrutiny: a foolish ass breathes into a forgotten flute by complete accident and instantly declares himself a musical genius, while a preacher delivers a grand sermon on a Latin misreading, concluding that while scripture proves a "certain man" once existed, no mention is ever made of a "certain woman."

As the anthology nears its conclusion, narrative ballads give way to sheer verbal play, parody, and nonsense. A bold young inventor named Darius Green decides that if birds can fly, a farm boy should be able to do the same, secretly stitching together wings out of leather, iron, and bellows in his shed. In the realm of dark comedy, a desperate man tries every trick imaginable to end the life of an ancient female relative whose perpetual annuity is ruining him, only to find she is entirely immune to poison, disease, cold, and physical injury. Romantic, solemn poetry is relentlessly spoofed: Edgar Allan Poe's gloomy atmosphere becomes a bowling alley "Titanic of Ten-pins" where a patron drinks in a tavern called the Nightingale, while Algernon Charles Swinburne's intricate, heavily alliterated verses are pushed to their logical extreme with stanza after stanza of musical, magnificent gibberish about "bratticed wrackers" and "sporgles spanning the floreate mead." The compilation draws to a close with a cascade of limericks, short riddles, and nursery rhymes, leaving the reader with a world where cats reside in parlors, cows swing in hammocks, and human pretension is continually softened by laughter.

How It Unfolds

The soldier dreams of peace — A weary officer in the trenches ignores the noise of battle and imagines a quiet, absurdly slow future where he can watch tortoises sprint and listen to jellyfish breathe.

The suitor calculates his needs — Realizing that no single woman can simultaneously be a glamourous socialite, an intellectual companion, and an efficient housekeeper, a practical man argues for a three-wife household.

The schoolmaster tests his pupil — An Irish instructor proudly praises a student whose historical knowledge includes Sir Isaac Newton breaking his crown in an apple tree and Rob Roy tailoring for the King of the Cannibal Islands.

The actress complains to Mabel — A touring theater performer vents about cheap one-night stands, terrible hotel rooms, and fickle men who call her "dear" but refuse to buy her a meal.

The combination lock opens — A clever suitor treats a maiden's heart like a safe, dialing through sighs, fond looks, and gentle words until a kiss opens the door.

The universe answers the man — A person steps forward to declare his existence to the cosmos, only to be informed that his presence imposes no duty or obligation on the universe.

The ass plays the flute — A browsing animal accidentally blows into an instrument dropped in a field and immediately attributes the resulting music to his own incredible talent.

The knife-grinder rejects the philanthropist — A self-important reformer attempts to lecture a street laborer on political oppression, but the worker only cares about his immediate poverty and a pint of ale.

Clean Clara washes the world — A obsessively tidy woman cleans everything in sight, from harpsichord keys and ancient tapestries to the family clock, the cockatoo, and eventually herself.

The annuity holder refuses to die — A frustrated man details his endless, failing attempts to outlive an elderly woman whose unending annuity payments are draining his finances.

Darius Green builds his wings — A farm boy argues that humans ought to fly just as well as wrens or bluebirds, secretly assembling a flying machine out of leather, wire, and old bellows.

The ten-pin bowler meets his soul — In a parody of gothic melancholy, a patron wanders through a ten-pin alley while watching a bartender mix drinks with a "vitreous eye."

The nonsense realm takes over — Logic breaks down entirely into rhythmic, alliterative play as sporgles span the mead and sailors navigate impossible, upside-down ships across dry land.

The People

• The Trench Officer — A soldier worn down by the noise, fear, and absurdities of modern warfare. He desires nothing more than absolute tranquility, seeking an after-life in quiet lands where he can engage in absurdly passive activities like watching jelly-fish breathe or planting lemon pips.
• The Calculating Bachelor — An pragmatic suitor who evaluates romance through a lens of strict division of labor. Frustrated by the expectation that one person can fulfill every role, he seeks a three-wife arrangement to cover social presentation, intellectual fellowship, and domestic management.
• The Actressed Performer — A working-class theater actress navigating the grind of minor stage productions. She wants financial security, decent meals, and professional respect, but finds herself constantly thwarted by penny-pinching managers, rival prima donnas, and cheap dates.
• The Needy Knife-Grinder — A itinerant street laborer who travels rough roads with broken equipment. While an visiting reformer tries to impose grand political theories of class oppression onto his life, the knife-grinder himself wants only basic relief, food, and a warm drink.
• Clean Clara — An obsessively industrious woman who derives her sole purpose in life from scrubbing and polishing. She systematically cleans every object, piece of furniture, pet, and relative in her household until everything shines with pristine clarity.
• The Annuity Payer — A desperate, financially ruined man whose entire existence is consumed by his attempt to outlive a ninety-four-year-old female relative. Despite exposure to winter storms, broken bones, and attempted poisonings, his target remains stubbornly alive, leaving him broken and bankrupt.
• Darius Green — A fourteen-year-old farmer's son possessing immense curiosity and mechanical ambition. Convinced that human beings are intellectually superior to birds and thus ought to fly, he spends his time secretly building a flying apparatus out of leather and scrap materials.
• John Gilpin — A respectable, law-abiding London linendraper and train-band captain. Desiring a simple, pleasant anniversary outing with his family, he finds his peaceful holiday derailed when his borrowed horse bolts, carrying him miles past his destination on an wild, uncontrollable ride.

In Its Own Voice

"When the War is over and the Kaiser's out of print / I'm going to buy some tortoises and watch the beggars sprint;"

An exhausted soldier imagines the ultimate antidote to the madness of war, finding relief in the slowest, most quiet pursuits imaginable.

"A fool, in spite of nature's bent, / May shine for once,--by accident."

A fable about a browsing ass who stumbles upon a discarded flute dryly observes how luck is frequently mistaken for genuine talent.

"A man said to the universe, / 'Sir, I exist!' / 'However,' replied the universe, / 'The fact has not created in me / A sense of obligation.'"

In three brief lines, a grand human proclamation is met with the cold, indifferent comedy of the cosmic order.

What It's Really About

Beneath its playful surfaces and rhyming couplets, the anthology engages in a continuous critique of human pomposity and self-importance. The selections consistently target individuals and institutions that take themselves too seriously—whether they are intellectual scholars, solemn moralists, overconfident inventors, or sentimental poets. By placing high-minded philosophical ambitions alongside mundane physical realities, the verse demonstrates how easily human vanity collapses under the weight of everyday facts.

A central tension across the volume is the friction between idealistic expectations and stubborn reality. Romantic poetry promises eternal bliss, yet real-world courtships are derailed by bristling hatpins or financial anxiety over a father's stolen purse. Political reformers dream of grand societal revolutions, while the working individuals they seek to help care only about immediate comfort and a decent meal. Rationalists build elaborate logical systems, only to be undone by simple bad luck or an absurd twist of fate.

Ultimately, the book argues for the necessity of humor as an essential tool for human survival. In a world shaped by war, financial distress, aging, and cosmic indifference, the ability to laugh serves as a vital coping mechanism. By transforming anxieties about mortality, romance, and failure into rhythmic play, the anthology asserts that levity is not merely a distraction, but a crucial way of maintaining perspective amidst life's inevitable chaos.

Why Read It Today

This compilation remains an engaging, remarkably varied portal into historical humor, offering modern readers a direct look at what made previous generations laugh. It functions both as an entertaining treasury of light verse and as an illuminating cultural artifact. Reading through its pages feels like flipping through an illustrated Victorian or early-twentieth-century humor magazine: the pace is swift, the voices are distinct, and the variety prevents any single style from overstaying its welcome. Readers who enjoy wordplay, sharp satire, classic literary parody, or historical verse will find much to appreciate in its rhythmic charm and clever rhymes.

However, modern readers should approach the text with an awareness of its era. As a product of its time, the anthology contains period attitudes, outdated cultural stereotypes, and dialect humor that reflect the biases of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Some selections rely heavily on phonetically rendered regional dialects—such as Scottish brogue, Irish cadences, or rural American vernacular—which can occasionally slow down the reading pace for contemporary audiences. Additionally, a few entries feature outdated social tropes and racial caricatures that may feel jarring today.

Despite these period elements, the core of the collection retains its punch. The parodies of famous poets like Poe, Wordsworth, and Swinburne are executed with razor-sharp skill, and the pure nonsense verse remains delightfully fresh. It is a book best enjoyed by dipping in and out, taking in a few selections at a time. Readers who appreciate literary craft, historical perspectives on comedy, and the enduring power of a well-turned rhyme will find it a rich and rewarding volume.