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Rhymed recipes.

" ROCKS "

Like, but oh! how different.

— Wordsworth.

Most people think that rocks are stones

And never meant to eat,
But if you'll make the ones I mean,

You'll find them quite a treat.

One cup of powdered sugar take,

Two-thirds of butter add,
And cream together soft and smooth —

The work will make you glad.

Two eggs, well beaten, go in next,

Then 'tis the flour's turn.
One cup, and half a cupful more —

But any extra spurn.

A teaspoonful of cinnamon.

And one of powdered clove,
A pound of walnuts chopped with pound

Of raisins that we love.

These add with soda — well dissolved
(A teaspoonful — that's all!)

In water hot, to keep the " rocks "
From an untimely fall.

On buttered tins the mixture drop
From spoon — 'twill oddly form —

Bake in an oven not too cold,
Nor yet again too warm.

Taste one when done, and you will own.
Before you are much older.

The only fault with such a rock
Is that it's not a boulder.