Songs and Other Verse | Page 9

you maunder through the hall, Is a curious little clock upon a bracket on the wall;?'T was made by Stoddard's father, and it's very, very old-- The connoisseurs assure me it is worth its weight in gold;?And I, who've bought all kinds of clocks, 'twixt Denver and the Rhine, Cast envious eyes upon that clock, and wish that it were mine.
But in the parlor. Oh, the gems on tables, walls, and floor-- Rare first editions, etchings, and old crockery galore.?Why, talk about the Indies and the wealth of Orient things-- They couldn't hold a candle to these quaint and sumptuous things; In such profusion, too--Ah me! how dearly I recall?How I have sat and watched 'em and wished I had 'em all.
Now, Mr. Stoddard's study is on the second floor,?A wee blind dog barks at me as I enter through the door;?The Cerberus would fain begrudge what sights it cannot see, The rapture of that visual feast it cannot share with me;?A miniature edition this--this most absurd of hounds--?A genuine unique, I'm sure, and one unknown to Lowndes.
Books--always books--are piled around; some musty, and all old; Tall, solemn folios such as Lamb declared he loved to hold; Large paper copies with their virgin margins white and wide, And presentation volumes with the author's comps. inside;?I break the tenth commandment with a wild impassioned cry:?Oh, how came Stoddard by these things? Why Stoddard, and not I?
From yonder wall looks Thackeray upon his poet friend,?And underneath the genial face appear the lines he penned;?And here, gadzooks, ben honge ye prynte of marvaillous renowne Yt shameth Chaucers gallaunt knyghtes in Canterbury towne;?And still more books and pictures. I'm dazed, bewildered, vexed; Since I've broke the tenth commandment, why not break the eighth one next?
And, furthermore, in confidence inviolate be it said?Friend Stoddard owns a lock of hair that grew on Milton's head; Now I have Gladstone axes and a lot of curious things,?Such as pimply Dresden teacups and old German wedding-rings; But nothing like that saintly lock have I on wall or shelf, And, being somewhat short of hair, I should like that lock myself.
But Stoddard has a soothing way, as though he grieved to see Invidious torments prey upon a nice young chap like me.?He waves me to an easy chair and hands me out a weed?And pumps me full of that advice he seems to know I need;?So sweet the tap of his philosophy and knowledge flows?That I can't help wishing that I knew a half what Stoddard knows.
And so we sit for hours and hours, praising without restraint The people who are thoroughbreds, and roasting the ones that ain't; Happy, thrice happy, is the man we happen to admire,?But wretched, oh, how wretched he that hath provoked our ire; For I speak emphatic English when I once get fairly r'iled, And Stoddard's wrath's an Ossa upon a Pelion piled.
Out yonder, in the alcove, a lady sits and darns,?And interjects remarks that always serve to spice our yarns; She's Mrs. Stoddard; there's a dame that's truly to my heart: A tiny little woman, but so quaint, and good, and smart?That, if you asked me to suggest which one I should prefer?Of all the Stoddard treasures, I should promptly mention her.
O dear old man, how I should like to be with you this night, Down in your home in Fifteenth street, where all is snug and bright; Where the shaggy little Cerberus dreams in its cushioned place, And the books and pictures all around smile in their old friend's face; Where the dainty little sweetheart, whom you still were proud to woo, Charms back the tender memories so dear to her and you.
THE THREE TAILORS
I shall tell you in rhyme how, once on a time,?Three tailors tramped up to the inn Ingleheim,
On the Rhine, lovely Rhine;?They were broke, but the worst of it all, they were curst?With that malady common to tailors--a thirst
For wine, lots of wine.
"Sweet host," quoth the three, "we're hard up as can be,?Yet skilled in the practice of cunning are we,
On the Rhine, genial Rhine;?And we pledge you we will impart you that skill?Right quickly and fully, providing you'll fill
Us with wine, cooling wine."
But that host shook his head, and he warily said:?"Though cunning be good, we take money instead,
On the Rhine, thrifty Rhine;?If ye fancy ye may without pelf have your way?You'll find that there's both host and the devil to pay
For your wine, costly wine."
Then the first knavish wight took his needle so bright?And threaded its eye with a wee ray of light
From the Rhine, sunny Rhine;?And, in such a deft way, patched a mirror that day?That where it was mended no expert could say--
Done so fine 't was for wine.
The second thereat spied a poor little gnat?Go toiling along on his nose broad and flat
Towards