Fly Leaves | Page 4

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Have I cared a jot for aught but her.
No, mine own! though early forced to leave you,
Still my heart was there where first we met;?In those "Lodgings with an ample sea-view,"
Which were, forty years ago, "To Let."
There I saw her first, our landlord's oldest
Little daughter. On a thing so fair?Thou, O Sun,--who (so they say) beholdest
Everything,--hast gazed, I tell thee, ne'er.
There she sat--so near me, yet remoter
Than a star--a blue-eyed bashful imp:?On her lap she held a happy bloater,
'Twixt her lips a yet more happy shrimp.
And I loved her, and our troth we plighted
On the morrow by the shingly shore:?In a fortnight to be disunited
By a bitter fate for evermore.
O my own, my beautiful, my blue eyed!
To be young once more, and bite my thumb?At the world and all its cares with you, I'd
Give no inconsiderable sum.
Hand in hand we tramp'd the golden seaweed,
Soon as o'er the gray cliff peep'd the dawn:?Side by side, when came the hour for tea, we'd
Crunch the mottled shrimp and hairy prawn:-
Has she wedded some gigantic shrimper,
That sweet mite with whom I loved to play??Is she girt with babes that whine and whimper,
That bright being who was always gay?
Yes--she has at least a dozen wee things!
Yes--I see her darning corduroys,?Scouring floors, and setting out the tea-things,
For a howling herd of hungry boys,
In a home that reeks of tar and sperm-oil!
But at intervals she thinks, I know,?Of those days which we, afar from turmoil,
Spent together forty years ago.
O my earliest love, still unforgotten,
With your downcast eyes of dreamy blue!?Never, somehow, could I seem to cotton
To another as I did to you!
WANDERERS.
As o'er the hill we roam'd at will,
My dog and I together,?We mark'd a chaise, by two bright bays
Slow-moved along the heather:
Two bays arch neck'd, with tails erect
And gold upon their blinkers;?And by their side an ass I spied;
It was a travelling tinker's.
The chaise went by, nor aught cared I;
Such things are not in my way:?I turn'd me to the tinker, who
Was loafing down a by-way:
I ask'd him where he lived--a stare
Was all I got in answer,?As on he trudged: I rightly judged
The stare said, "Where I can, sir."
I ask'd him if he'd take a whiff
Of 'bacco; he acceded;?He grew communicative too,
(A pipe was all he needed,)?Till of the tinker's life, I think,
I knew as much as he did.
"I loiter down by thorp and town;
For any job I'm willing;?Take here and there a dusty brown,
And here and there a shilling.
"I deal in every ware in turn,
I've rings for buddin' Sally?That sparkle like those eyes of her'n;
I've liquor for the valet.
"I steal from th' parson's strawberry-plots,
I hide by th' squire's covers;?I teach the sweet young housemaids what's
The art of trapping lovers.
"The things I've done 'neath moon and stars
Have got me into messes:?I've seen the sky through prison bars.
I've torn up prison dresses.
"I've sat, I've sigh'd, I've gloom'd, I've glanced
With envy at the swallows?That through the window slid, and danced
(Quite happy) round the gallows;
"But out again I come, and show
My face nor care a stiver?For trades are brisk and trades are slow,
But mine goes on for ever."
Thus on he prattled like a babbling brook.?Then I, "The sun hath slipt behind the hill,?And my aunt Vivian dines at half-past six."?So in all love we parted; I to the Hall,?They to the village. It was noised next noon?That chickens had been miss'd at Syllabub Farm.
SAD MEMORIES.
They tell me I am beautiful: they praise my silken hair,?My little feet that silently slip on from stair to stair:?They praise my pretty trustful face and innocent grey eye;?Fond hands caress me oftentimes, yet would that I might die!
Why was I born to be abhorr'd of man and bird and beast??The bulfinch marks me stealing by, and straight his song hath ceased;?The shrewmouse eyes me shudderingly, then flees; and, worse than that,?The housedog he flees after me--why was I born a cat?
Men prize the heartless hound who quits dry-eyed his native land; Who wags a mercenary tail and licks a tyrant hand.?The leal true cat they prize not, that if e'er compell'd to roam Still flies, when let out of the bag, precipitately home.
They call me cruel. Do I know if mouse or songbird feels??I only know they make me light and salutary meals:?And if, as 'tis my nature to, ere I devour I tease 'em,?Why should a low-bred gardener's boy pursue me with a besom?
Should china fall or chandeliers, or anything but stocks -?Nay stocks, when they're in flowerpots--the cat expects hard knocks: Should ever anything be missed--milk, coals, umbrellas, brandy - The cat's pitch'd into with a boot or any thing that's handy.
"I remember, I remember," how one night I "fleeted by,"?And gain'd the blessed tiles and gazed into the cold clear sky. "I remember, I remember, how my little lovers came;"?And there, beneath the crescent moon, play'd many a little game.
They