The Kings and Queens of England with Other Poems | Page 9

pray what's to be done?
No pageant to welcome,
to children no fun?
Some "turn a cold shoulder," and look with
disdain,
Yet many there'll be who will follow his train.
He's "sure

missed a figure," and "bit his own nose,"
Ah, many the thorn he'll
find 'mid life's rose.
Then we've concerts, fine readings, museum and halls,
With disputes,
and debates, in legislative halls,
Ethiopian Minstrels, Shakesperian
plays;
And yet, my dear friend, I'm told in these days,
Religion's
blessed joys are most faithfully felt,
With devotion's pure prayers the
proud heart to melt;
That many have turned to the straight narrow
road,
Which leadeth to peace and communion with God.
To you
this assurance a welcome will find,
A subject of vital concern to the
mind.
When hither you come, do enter our door,
I'll give you my hand,
perhaps something more.
Let me urge, if inclined, to this you'll reply,

I'll again do my best, yes, surely I'll try;
The fair one who brings it
ought sure to inspire
Some poetical lay from Genius' sweet lyre.

But Genius repels me, she "turns a deaf ear,"
And frowns on me
scornful, the year after year;
Perhaps if I sue, in the "sere yellow
leaf,"
She'll open her heart, and yield me relief.
But wayward my
pen, I must now bid adieu,
My friendship, dear madam, I offer to you,

And beg with your friends, you'll please place my name,
The
privilege grant me of doing the same.
S. NICHOLSON.
Boston, April 16, 1862.
REJOINDER TO THE FOREGOING REPLY.
Many, many thanks my friend,
For those sweet verses thou didst
send,
So good they were and witty;
And now I will confess to thee,

Mixed up with bad, much good I see
Within the crowded city.

Boston, "with all thy faults I love
Thee still," though much I
disapprove--
See much in thee to blame;
Yet to be candid, I'll allow
Thy equal no
one can me show
From Mexico to Maine.
It is my boast, perhaps my pride,
To be to English blood allied,
Warm in my veins it's flowing;
And when I see the homage given

To foreign men and foreign women,[1]
That blood with shame is glowing.
I hope when Kossuth fever's cool
And we have put our wits to school,
And sober senses found;
When the Hungarian's out of sight
And
shattered brains collected quite,
We may be safe and sound.
But what simpletons, should we choose,
With nought to gain and
much to loose,
'Gainst Austria to war;
What greater folly, when we know
By doing
this, we'll get a blow
From the ambitious Czar.
But you may not with me agree,
And I am getting warm I see,
So here I bid adieu
To Kossuth and to Hungary,
To Russia and to
Germany,
And the great Emperor too.
And now my friend a word I'd say
Before I throw my pen away,

On subject most important;
In doing this I need not fear
I shall
offend the nicest ear,
Or strike a note discordant.
Oh! had I true poetic fire,
With boldness would I strike the lyre
So loud that all might hear;
But ah! my harp is tuned so low,
Its
feeble strains I full well know
Can reach no distant ear.
Yet I rejoice that harps on high,
And voices of sweet harmony,
Are raised to bless the name
Of Him who sits upon the throne,

Rejoicing over souls new born,
Who soon will join with them,
Eternally His name to adore
Who
died, yet lives forevermore.
Weston, May 8, 1852.
[1] By this I do not mean to include all foreigners, for some of
them I consider among the very best of our population, but dancers,
&c., &c.
TO MY FRIEND MR. J. ELLIS.
To thee, the guardian of my youthful days,
Fain would I pay some
tribute of respect;
And though it falls far short of thy desert,
The
will to do thee justice thou'lt accept.
As I recall the days of former years,
Thy many acts of kindness bring
to mind,
Tears fill my eyes, in thee I've ever found
A friend most
faithful, uniformly kind.

Thou art the earliest friend of mine that's left--
The rest have long
departed, every one;
They've long years since the debt of nature paid,

But thou remainest still, and thou alone.
The snow of four score winters thou has seen,
And life's long
pilgrimage may soon be o'er;
Respected, loved, and happy hast thou
been,
With ample means to relieve the suffering poor,
Thou ever
hadst the will, as well as power.
Temperate in habit, and of temper even,
Calm and unruffled as the
peaceful lake,
To thee the satisfaction has been given
Much to
enjoy, and others happy make.
And when thy days on earth shall all be past,
And thou before the
Saviour's bar appear,
Mayst thou be found clothed in his
righteousness
And from his lips the joyful sentence hear--
"Well done, thou good and faithful servant; thou
Hast over few things
faithful been, and now
I'll make thee ruler over many things,
And
place a crown of glory on thy brow."
Such will be thy reward, my friend, and mine,
If trusting in Christ's
merits, not our own,
We at the last