Fly Leaves | Page 6

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PRECIOUS STONES.?AN INCIDENT IN MODERN HISTORY.
My Cherrystones! I prize them,
No tongue can tell how much!?Each lady caller eyes them,
And madly longs to touch!?At eve I lift them down, I look
Upon them, and I cry;?Recalling how my Prince 'partook'
(Sweet word!) of cherry-pie!
To me it was an Era
In life, that Dejeuner!?They ate, they sipp'd Madeira
Much in the usual way.?Many a soft item there would be,
No doubt, upon the carte:?But one made life a heaven to me:
It was the cherry-tart.
Lightly the spoonfuls enter'd
That mouth on which the gaze?Of ten fair girls was centred
In rapturous amaze.?Soon that august assemblage clear'd
The dish; and--as they ate -?The stones, all coyly, re-appear'd
On each illustrious plate.
And when His Royal Highness
Withdrew to take the air,?Waiving our natural shyness,
We swoop'd upon his chair.?Policemen at our garments clutch'd:
We mock'd those feeble powers;?And soon the treasures that had touch'd
Exalted lips were ours!
One large one--at the moment
It seem'd almost divine -?Was got by that Miss Beaumont:
And three, O three, are mine!?Yes! the three stones that rest beneath
Glass, on that plain deal shelf,?Stranger, once dallied with the teeth
Of Royalty itself.
Let Parliament abolish
Churches and States and Thrones:?With reverent hand I'll polish
Still, still my Cherrystones!?A clod--a piece of orange-peel
An end of a cigar -?Once trod on by a Princely heel,
How beautiful they are!
Years since, I climb'd Saint Michael
His Mount:- you'll all go there?Of course, and those who like'll
Sit in Saint Michael's Chair:?For there I saw, within a frame,
The pen--O heavens! the pen -?With which a Duke had sign'd his name,
And other gentlemen.
"Great among geese," I faltered,
"Is she who grew that quill!"?And, Deathless Bird, unalter'd
Is mine opinion still.?Yet sometimes, as I view my three
Stones with a thoughtful brow,?I think there possibly might be
E'en greater geese than thou.
DISASTER.
'Twas ever thus from childhood's hour!
My fondest hopes would not decay:?I never loved a tree or flower
Which was the first to fade away!?The garden, where I used to delve
Short-frock'd, still yields me pinks in plenty:?The peartree that I climb'd at twelve
I see still blossoming, at twenty.
I never nursed a dear gazelle;
But I was given a parroquet -?(How I did nurse him if unwell!)
He's imbecile, but lingers yet.?He's green, with an enchanting tuft;
He melts me with his small black eye:?He'd look inimitable stuff'd,
And knows it--but he will not die!
I had a kitten--I was rich
In pets--but all too soon my kitten?Became a full-sized cat, by which
I've more than once been scratch'd and bitten.?And when for sleep her limbs she curl'd
One day beside her untouch'd plateful,?And glided calmly from the world,
I freely own that I was grateful.
And then I bought a dog--a queen!
Ah Tiny, dear departing pug!?She lives, but she is past sixteen
And scarce can crawl across the rug.?I loved her beautiful and kind;
Delighted in her pert Bow-wow:?But now she snaps if you don't mind;
'Twere lunacy to love her now.
I used to think, should e'er mishap
Betide my crumple visaged Ti,?In shape of prowling thief, or trap,
Or coarse bull-terrier--I should die.?But ah! disasters have their use;
And life might e'en be too sunshiny:?Nor would I make myself a goose,
If some big dog should swallow Tiny.
CONTENTMENT.?AFTER THE MANNER OF HORACE.
Friend, there be they on whom mishap
Or never or so rarely comes,?That, when they think thereof, they snap
Derisive thumbs:
And there be they who lightly lose
Their all, yet feel no aching void;?Should aught annoy them, they refuse
To be annoy'd:
And fain would I be e'en as these!
Life is with such all beer and skittles;?They are not difficult to please
About their victuals:
The trout, the grouse, the early pea,
By such, if there, are freely taken;?If not, they munch with equal glee
Their bit of bacon:
And when they wax a little gay
And chaff the public after luncheon,?If they're confronted with a stray
Policeman's truncheon,
They gaze thereat with outstretch'd necks,
And laughter which no threats can smother,?And tell the horror-stricken X
That he's another.
In snowtime if they cross a spot
Where unsuspected boys have slid,?They fall not down--though they would not
Mind if they did:
When the spring rosebud which they wear
Breaks short and tumbles from its stem,?No thought of being angry e'er
Dawns upon them;
Though 'twas Jemima's hand that placed,
(As well you ween) at evening's hour,?In the loved button-hole that chaste
And cherish'd flower.
And when they travel, if they find
That they have left their pocket-compass?Or Murray or thick boots behind,
They raise no rumpus,
But plod serenely on without:
Knowing it's better to endure?The evil which beyond all doubt
You cannot cure.
When for that early train they're late,
They do not make their woes the text?Of sermons in the Times, but wait
On for the next;
And jump inside, and only grin
Should it appear that that dry wag,?The guard, omitted to put in
Their carpet-bag.
THE SCHOOLMASTER?ABROAD WITH HIS SON.
O what harper could worthily harp it,
Mine Edward! this wide-stretching wold?(Look out wold) with its wonderful carpet
Of emerald, purple, and gold!?Look well at it--also look sharp, it
Is getting so cold.
The purple is heather (erica);
The yellow, gorse--call'd sometimes "whin."?Cruel boys on its prickles might spike a
Green beetle as if on a pin.?You may