I remember the time ere his temples were grey,
And I frown'd at the things he'd the boldness to say;
But now he grows old he may say what he will,
I laugh at his nonsense and take nothing ill.
Indeed I must say he's a little improved,
For he watches no longer the slily beloved;
No longer, as once, he awakens my fears,
Not a glance he perceives, not a whisper he hears;
If ever he heard one, it never transpired,
For his only delight is to see me admired;
And now, pray, what better return can I make
Than flirt, and be always admired. . for his sake.
Why! who now in the world is this?
It cannot be the same.. I miss
The gift he always brought . . a kiss.
Yet still I know my eyes are bright
And not a single hair turn'd white.
O idol of my youth! upon
That joyous head grey hair there's none,
Nor may there ever be! grey hair
Is the unthrifty growth of Care,
Which she has planted. . you see where.
We know a poet rich in thought, profuse
In bounty; but his grain wants winnowing;
There hangs much chaff about it, barndoor dust,
Cobwebs, small insects: it might make a loaf,
A good large loaf, of household bread; but flour
Must be well bolted for a dainty roll.
What garden but glows
With at least its one rose
Whether sunny or showery be June?
What heart so unblest
That it never possest
One treasure, tho' perishing soon?
Be not in too great haste to dry
The tear that springs from sympathy.
We have survived three months of rain,
O come and bring the sun again;
Your Rosebud, tho' she treads on air,
Is only yet the morning star;
Old January's nineteenth day
To me is like the first of May.
I drink your health. . but Time, alas!
Holds over mine another glass,
In which no liquid rubies shine,
But whose dry sand drains all the wine:
Fain would I turn it upside down,
It will not do. . I fear his frown;
Tho' on the whole (now come and see)
He has been somewhat mild with me.
I will not, dare not, look behind,
On days when you were true and kind,
Oh that I now could grow as blind.
Why did you ever tempt the sea
And the sea-breeze, if there must be
A lesson of inconstancy?
No easy thing to hit the mind
That wavers with each gust of wind,
Nor worth the while, unless to show
What a good blade and skill can do.
Damascus sabres at one stroke
Cut lightest plume or hardest oak.
I let your feathers sweep the plain
And sheath my scymeter again.
Thou needst not pitch upon my hat,
Thou wither'd leaf! to show how near
Is now the winter of my year;
Alas! I want no hint of that.
Prythee, ah prythee get along!
Whisper as gently in the ear,
I once could whisper in, to fear
No change, but live for dance and song.
Too mindful of the fault in Eve,
You ladies never will believe,
Else I would venture now to say
I love you quite as well this day
As when fire ran along my veins
From your bright eyes, and joys and pains
Each other's swelling waves pursued,
And when the wooer too was wooed.
Neither in idleness consume thy days,
Nor bend thy back to mow the weeds of praise.
While thou wert by
With laughing eye,
I felt the glow and song of spring:
Now thou art gone
I sit alone,
Nor heed who smile nor hear who sing.
How many ages did the planets roll
O'er sapient heads that nightly watcht their course,
Ere the most sapient betwixt pole and pole
Believed them fleeter than the dustman's horse!
In quadruped or winged game
Gourmands there are who like the high:
"Tis in society the same . .
A touch of taint is spicery.
Our days are number'd, O Eliza! mine
On the left hand have many numerals,
Few on the right; but while those days decline
May her's shine bright who graced these lonely halls!
Cypress and Cedar! gracefullest of trees,
Friends of my boyhood! ye, before the breeze,
As lofty lords before an eastern throne,
Bend the whole body, not the head alone.
Love thou thy neighbour as thyself
Lies an old sawe upon the shelf.
With intercourse and accent bland
Dogs.. smooth Maltese, rough Newfoundland,
And spirited and faithful Spitz .
Accost me let them teach the wits.
The greater have come up and done
All honour, the minuter none.
Singling me from amidst the crowd
My next-door neighbour barks most loud.
Stop, stop, friend Cogan! would you throw
That tooth away? You little know
Its future that which now you see
A sinner's, an old saint's may be,
And popes may bless it in a ring
To charm the conscience of some king.
Yes, I will come to Oxford now
Juicy and green is every bough,
Unfit as yet to roast a Froude :
Exeter cries, To what a pass
Are we reduced! alas! alas!"
And Church and College wail aloud.
People may think the work of sleep
That deep-indented frown;
Its post of honour let it keep,
Nor draw the nightcap down.
Acknowledge that at every wheeze,
At every grunt and groan,
You hear his verses; do not these
Proclaim them for his own?
Years, many parti-colour'd years,
Some have crept on, and some have flown,
Since first before me fell those tears
I never could see fall alone.
Years, not so many, are to come,
Years not so varied, when from you
One more will fall: when, carried home,
I see it not, nor hear adieu.
Death, in approaching, brings me sleep so sound
I scarcely hear the dreams that hover round;
One cruel thing, one only, he can do
Break the bright image (Life's best gift) of you.
Here stands a civil man, John Hickes,
Waiting, he says, to cross the Styx.
Check that dog's treble-bass, O Charon !
Take him, and lay the lightest fare on.
Thou dreariest droll of puffy short-breath'd writers!
All thy night-thoughts and day-thoughts hung on mitres.
A QUARRELSOME BISHOP.
To hide her ordure, claws the cat;
You claw, but not to cover that.
Be decenter, and learn at least
One lesson from the cleanlier beast.
"Instead of idling half my hours,
I might have learnt the names of flowers
In gardens, groves, and fields."
Where then had been the sweet surprise
That sparkles from those dark-blue eyes?
Less pleasure knowledge yields.
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