Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/537
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THE DOSE.
519
A wedded pair there once existed,
'Twixt whom these doctrines were divided;
The husband in the last persisted,
The wife was for the first decided.
Constant their squabbles all day long,
Their nightly theme, their morning's song—
Their faith was this—whatever is, is wrong.
'Twixt whom these doctrines were divided;
The husband in the last persisted,
The wife was for the first decided.
Constant their squabbles all day long,
Their nightly theme, their morning's song—
Their faith was this—whatever is, is wrong.
One day, the usual storm subsiding,
(For, breathless, all must leave off chiding)
The dame began to smooth her brows,
And thus addressed her peevish spouse:
"Really, my dear, I can't conceive
Why little things should make us grieve,
And put our tempers out of joint,
When neither cares how these succeed,
And we are perfectly agreed
About the main, the one grand point."
(For, breathless, all must leave off chiding)
The dame began to smooth her brows,
And thus addressed her peevish spouse:
"Really, my dear, I can't conceive
Why little things should make us grieve,
And put our tempers out of joint,
When neither cares how these succeed,
And we are perfectly agreed
About the main, the one grand point."
"Agreed!" the man exclaimed—"what stuff!
In what grand point, I pray?"
"The grandest point—'tis clear enough,
As you," said she, "shall say:
Agreed in this, which not a fool
Will venture to deny—
You wish to rule,
And so do I!"
In what grand point, I pray?"
"The grandest point—'tis clear enough,
As you," said she, "shall say:
Agreed in this, which not a fool
Will venture to deny—
You wish to rule,
And so do I!"
The Dose.
Mistakes are common all through life,
A man Miss takes, and she becomes his wife;
In this perhaps they're both mistaken,
So never claim the flitch of bacon:
But such mistakes I'll let alone,
And now begin in serious tone.
A man Miss takes, and she becomes his wife;
In this perhaps they're both mistaken,
So never claim the flitch of bacon:
But such mistakes I'll let alone,
And now begin in serious tone.
An officer in quarters lay
At Dublin—that you'll say,
Is nothing very strange or sad:
True—but he was taken very bad.
And though there's nothing new in that,
Yet the prescription that he took to cure
His malady, I'm sure,
At Dublin—that you'll say,
Is nothing very strange or sad:
True—but he was taken very bad.
And though there's nothing new in that,
Yet the prescription that he took to cure
His malady, I'm sure,