A MY LANDLADY. SMALL brisk woman, capped with many a bow; Who bids me, bustling, "God speed," when I go, "Ay, sir, 'tis cold,—and freezing hard,—they say ; Beating his horse in such a shameful way !— A musky haunt of lavender and shells, Quaint-figured Chinese monsters, toys, and trays— A life's collection-where each object tells Of fashions gone and half-forgotten ways: A glossy screen, where wide-mouth dragons ramp; A pictured ship, with full-blown canvas set; With yellow writing faded underneath. Looking, I sink within the shrouded chair, "Where is he?" "Ah, sir, he is dead-my boy! He's always living in my head-my boy! "There were two souls washed overboard, they said, "He was a strong, strong swimmer. Do you know, "'Twas his third voyage. That's the box he brought,— Or would have brought-my poor deserted boy! And these the words the agents sent-they thought "Look, sir, I've something here that I prize more : This is a fragment of the poor lad's coat, That other clutched him as the wave went o'er, And this stayed in his hand. That's what they wrote. "Well, well, 'tis done. My story's shocking you ;Grief is for them that have both time and wealth: We can't mourn much, who have much work to do ; Your fire is bright. Thank God, I have my health !" "M BEFORE THE CURTAIN. ISS PEACOCK 's called." And who demurs? If praise be due, one sure prefers And yet, most strange to say, I find The pleased young premier led her on, Where is "Sir Lumley Leycester, Bart."? Must poison half-a-dozen ! Where is the cool Detective,-he Should surely be applauded? The Lawyer, who refused the fee ?— The Wedding Guests (in number three)?— Why are they all defrauded? The men who worked the cataract? Think what a crowd whom none recall, Women for whom no bouquets fall, And men whose names no galleries bawl,— The Great un Benefit-ed! Ah, Reader, ere you turn the page, And ne'er a leaf for laurel ! |