Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/470
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A HUSBAND'S DREAM.
He calls children apes, sir, (the fox and the grapes, sir,)
And fain would be wed when his locks are like snow;
But widows throw scorn out, and tell him he's worn out,
And maidens deriding, cry "No! my love, no!"
Old age comes with sorrow, with wrinkle, with furrow,
No hope in to-morrow—none sympathy spares;
And, when unfit to rise up, he looks to the skies up—
None close his old eyes up—he dies—and who cares?
And fain would be wed when his locks are like snow;
But widows throw scorn out, and tell him he's worn out,
And maidens deriding, cry "No! my love, no!"
Old age comes with sorrow, with wrinkle, with furrow,
No hope in to-morrow—none sympathy spares;
And, when unfit to rise up, he looks to the skies up—
None close his old eyes up—he dies—and who cares?
A Husband's Dream.
I dreamt one night, not many months ago,
A fairy episode of social life;
Perhaps 'twas through pork chops—I hardly know—
Perhaps it was the scolding of my wife!
Whatever cause, 'tis useless now to show,
I needn't mention such domestic strife;
But leave it doubtful 'twixt the chops and woman:
They both are pills—medicinal and common.
A fairy episode of social life;
Perhaps 'twas through pork chops—I hardly know—
Perhaps it was the scolding of my wife!
Whatever cause, 'tis useless now to show,
I needn't mention such domestic strife;
But leave it doubtful 'twixt the chops and woman:
They both are pills—medicinal and common.
Not that I mean against the sex to rail;
Their tongues and tempers are what Nature gave;
And, were I so inclined, my words would fail:
Last month I laid my Julia in the grave!
Well might I mourn—her sad release bewail;
But, in your presence, I'll my sorrows save:
Simply remarking, that my absent treasure
Had such a tongue!—I never knew its measure.
Their tongues and tempers are what Nature gave;
And, were I so inclined, my words would fail:
Last month I laid my Julia in the grave!
Well might I mourn—her sad release bewail;
But, in your presence, I'll my sorrows save:
Simply remarking, that my absent treasure
Had such a tongue!—I never knew its measure.
How happy he—how well may he rejoice—
Who, having loved, and been "beloved again,"
Catches a fairy, whose ecstatic voice
Governs its music in the social strain.
I had, alas! the object of my choice,
I loved, and doubtless, was beloved again;
Oh! when I think upon my Julia's charms,
The wish will rise—"Come, tongueless, to my arms!"
Who, having loved, and been "beloved again,"
Catches a fairy, whose ecstatic voice
Governs its music in the social strain.
I had, alas! the object of my choice,
I loved, and doubtless, was beloved again;
Oh! when I think upon my Julia's charms,
The wish will rise—"Come, tongueless, to my arms!"
But to the dream—the mist, in which I saw
A land Elysian, boasting nought of kings;
Where malice never came—where common law
And common plunder were uncommon things;
Where labour fed its children; where I saw
A group of cherubs, on Empyrean wings,
Chanting and carolling in mirth and jollity,
All to the tune and measure of Equality!
A land Elysian, boasting nought of kings;
Where malice never came—where common law
And common plunder were uncommon things;
Where labour fed its children; where I saw
A group of cherubs, on Empyrean wings,
Chanting and carolling in mirth and jollity,
All to the tune and measure of Equality!