Ah perishable clay! Her charms had dropt away One by one: But if she heaved a sigh With a burthen, it was, "Thy In travail, as in tears, With the fardel of her years Overprest, In mercy she was borne Where the weary and the worn Are at rest. O if you now are there, And sweet as once you were, Grandmamma, This nether world agrees You'll all the better please Grandpapa. BEGGARS. They eat, and drink, and scheme, and plod, They go to church on Sunday; And many are afraid of God- I am pacing the Mall in a rapt reverie, I am thinking if Sophy is thinking of me, When I'm roused by a ragged and shivering wretch, Who seems to be well on his way to Jack Ketch. He's got a bad face, and a shocking bad hat; A comb in his fist, and he sees I'm a flat, For he says, "Buy a comb, it's a fine un to wear; He eyes my gold chain, as if greedy to crib it; I settle that Sophy is all I desire. As I stroll from the club, and am deep in a strophè She begs, I am touch'd, but I've great circumspection; Am I right? How I wish that my clerical guide A few minutes later I'm happy and free To sip "Its own Sophykins'" five o'clock tea; Her table is loaded, for when a girl marries, What bushels of rubbish they send her from Barry's! 'There's a present for you, Sir!" Yes, thanks to her thrift, My Pet has been able to buy me a gift; And she slips in my hand, the delightfully sly Thing, A paper-weight form'd of a bronze lizard writhing. "What a charming cadeau! and so truthfully moulded; 'Po-oh!"-says my Lady, (she always says "Pooh " When she's willful, and does what she oughtn't to do!) "Hopgarten protests they've no feeling, and so It was only their muscular movement, you know!" Thinks I (when I've said au revoir, and depart- Soon the wan, the wistful stars, Let this friendly pebble plead Mabel will be deck'd anon, Sing thy song, thou trancèd thrush, Pipe thy best, thy clearest ;— Hush, her lattice moves, O hush Dearest Mabel!-dearest .... Whither leads the path To ampler fates that leads? Not down through flowery meads, To reap an aftermath Of youth's vainglorious weeds, But up the steep, amid the wrath And shock of deadly-hostile creeds. Where the world's best hope and stay By battle's flashes gropes a desperate way, Ere yet the sharp, decisive word Light the black lips of cannon, and the sword But some day the live coal behind the thought, Or from the shrine serene Of God's pure altar brought, Bursts up in flame; the war of tongue and pen |