From the Evening Star, February 27, 1915. By Philander Johnson.
“What constitues ‘Society?’” inquired the Man from Mars;
“Is it a gathering of wealth and intellectual stars?”
“Ho! ho!” replied the rustic youth who wore a grin serene,
“Society’s our Mayday dance upon the village green.”
“Not so,” the housemaid gaily said, “That isn’t it at all.
To find society, you should attend the coachman’s ball.”
The serious woman said, “If for society you search,
You’ll find the very best there is by coming to my church.”
The studious one remarked, “The very highest social force
You may discover if you will attend our lecture course.”
And some said that society was made for games of chance,
And others mentioned art and brains and beauty and the dance.
The Man from Mars looked puzzled and remarked, “It seems to me
Society is all mankind, including even me;
And each of us looks just beyond his own familiar sphere;
The impulse is what made me leave my home and come down here.
Society’s a picture which we fill with fays and elves
And, when we meet them, find that they are persons like ourselves.”