Times Laughingstocks | Page 8

friends.
Time has tired me since we met here
When the folk now dead were young,
Since the viands were outset
here
And quaint songs sung.
And the worm has bored the viol
That used to lead the tune,
Rust eaten out the dial
That struck night's noon.
Now no Christmas brings in neighbours,
And the New Year comes unlit;
Where we sang the mole now
labours,
And spiders knit.
Yet at midnight if here walking,
When the moon sheets wall and tree,
I see forms of old time talking,
Who smile on me.
BEREFT
In the black winter morning
No light will be struck near my eyes

While the clock in the stairway is warning
For five, when he used to
rise.
Leave the door unbarred,
The clock unwound,
Make my lone bed
hard -
Would 'twere underground!

When the summer dawns clearly,
And the appletree-tops seem alight,

Who will undraw the curtain and cheerly
Call out that the morning
is bright?
When I tarry at market
No form will cross Durnover Lea
In the
gathering darkness, to hark at
Grey's Bridge for the pit-pat o' me.
When the supper crock's steaming,
And the time is the time of his
tread,
I shall sit by the fire and wait dreaming
In a silence as of the
dead.
Leave the door unbarred,
The clock unwound,
Make my lone bed
hard -
Would 'twere underground!
1901.
JOHN AND JANE
I
He sees the world as a boisterous place
Where all things bear a
laughing face,
And humorous scenes go hourly on,
Does John.
II
They find the world a pleasant place
Where all is ecstasy and grace,

Where a light has risen that cannot wane,
Do John and Jane.
III
They see as a palace their cottage-place,
Containing a pearl of the
human race,
A hero, maybe, hereafter styled,

Do John and Jane with a baby-child.
IV
They rate the world as a gruesome place,
Where fair looks fade to a
skull's grimace, -
As a pilgrimage they would fain get done -
Do John and Jane with their worthless son.
THE CURATE'S KINDNESS
A WORKHOUSE IRONY
I
I thought they'd be strangers aroun' me,
But she's to be there!
Let me jump out o' waggon and go back and
drown me
At Pummery or Ten-Hatches Weir.
II
I thought: "Well, I've come to the Union -
The workhouse at last -
After honest hard work all the week, and
Communion
O' Zundays, these fifty years past.
III
"'Tis hard; but," I thought, "never mind it:
There's gain in the end:
And when I get used to the place I shall find
it
A home, and may find there a friend.
IV
"Life there will be better than t'other.

For peace is assured.
THE MEN IN ONE WING AND THEIR
WIVES IN ANOTHER
Is strictly the rule of the Board."
V
Just then one young Pa'son arriving
Steps up out of breath
To the side o' the waggon wherein we were
driving
To Union; and calls out and saith:
VI
"Old folks, that harsh order is altered,
Be not sick of heart!
The Guardians they poohed and they pished and
they paltered
When urged not to keep you apart.
VII
"'It is wrong,' I maintained, 'to divide them,
Near forty years wed.'
'Very well, sir. We promise, then, they shall
abide them
In one wing together,' they said."
VIII
Then I sank--knew 'twas quite a foredone thing
That misery should be
To the end! . . . To get freed of her there was
the one thing

Had made the change welcome to me.
IX
To go there was ending but badly;
'Twas shame and 'twas pain;
"But anyhow," thought I, "thereby I
shall gladly
Get free of this forty years' chain."
X
I thought they'd be strangers aroun' me,
But she's to be there!
Let me jump out o' waggon and go back and
drown me
At Pummery or Ten-Hatches Weir.
THE FLIRT'S TRAGEDY
(17--)
Here alone by the logs in my chamber,
Deserted, decrepit -
Spent flames limning ghosts on the wainscot
Of friends I once knew -
My drama and hers begins weirdly
Its dumb re-enactment,
Each scene, sigh, and circumstance passing
In spectral review.
0. Wealth was mine beyond wish when I met her - The pride of the
lowland - Embowered in Tintinhull Valley
0. By laurel and yew;
And love lit my soul, notwithstanding

My features' ill favour,
Too obvious beside her perfections
Of line and of hue.
But it pleased her to play on my passion,
And whet me to pleadings
That won from her mirthful negations
And scornings undue.
Then I fled her disdains and derisions
To cities of pleasure,
And made me the crony of idlers
In every purlieu.
Of those who lent ear to my story,
A needy Adonis
Gave hint how to grizzle her garden
From roses to rue,
Could his price but be paid for so purging
My scorner of scornings:
Thus tempted, the lust to avenge me
Germed inly and grew.
I clothed him in sumptuous apparel,
Consigned to him coursers,
Meet equipage, liveried attendants