Here is another humorous poem which appeared in the same magazine in the June 1930 issue (vol. Vol. LXXXVI, pp. 320-1).
Text and pictures by OLIVER HERFORD
A SCULPTOR once, in search of fame
(I can’t recall the sculptor’s name),
Turned Cubist, and at once began
A statue on the Cubist plan.
The statue, I need hardly say,
Was something in the Venus way,
And as its form grew bit by bit,
The sculptor fell in love with it.
Then came a wonderful idea:
He named his statue Galatea,
Which, by the way, reminds me that
His own name was Pygmalion Pratt.
One day it chanced Pygmalion came
To read the legend of his name
And hers, and prayed that fiction might
Repeat itself for his delight.
When, lo! the cubic feet of stone
Turned all at once to flesh and bone,
And Galatea’s cubic face
Met his in angular embrace.
Short-lived was Galatea’s bliss;
She soon guessed something was amiss,
And from the wall, in modish dress,
A Gibson girl confirmed her guess.
“Pygmalion dear,” she cried, “oh, please
Buy me some pretty frills like these!”
Then, meeting his astonished stare,
Blushed to the cube roots of her hair.
Picture the curious crowds they drew
As they strolled up Fifth Avenue!
Think of the modistes asked to drape
Miss Galatea’s cubic shape!
When Galatea came to see
The sheer impossibility
Of getting clothes, without ado
She took to posing for le nu.
And now she leads (to end my tale)
A model life in Bloomingdale,
Painted and sculptured and adored
By inmates of the Cubist ward.
[The Century. An Illustrated Magazine. Vol. LXXXVI, June 1913, pp. 320-1.]