;► y JO > LIBRARY OF CONGRESsl ( ^ ^ ^ ^ — ^ Shelf .lM.S.S fc UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. <^^ '^::^ Iff ry y^ :>-y H -^'" ^'>> ^'^ ^i> ::^>JD> 11% ::^5Qx> ;:»>' .:>, ■!fe:^^,^3> 5^ :> ^ :> 3 :> > :> ^ D "a. y. >^ > 1II>' 'r> .J>> • > > > ^> i >^ J^ ^ > y ^ ? 3> 3> ^>' rs> / ARMSTRONG iCO.BOSTON. SLY BALLADES IN HARVARD V CHINA By E^ s/nXl-ilft-^^ BOSTON A. WILLIAMS AND COMPANY Old Corner Bookstore 1882 .-^" ^^^'^^ Copyright, 1882, Br A. WILLIAMS & CO. RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE: SLECTROTTPED AND PRINTED BY n. 0- HOUGHTON AND COMPANY, COIsrTENTS. PAGE Mixed 5 Only ^ Procul Negotiis ^ ' ' ^ The Soxg of the Blood 9 The Loafer's Lament . 11 Jilted ^^ Broke, Broke, Broke ! . . 15 Reform i: A Gum Game 20 FuiT Ilium 22 Epithalamium . . .■ 25 Again '^^ 32 Snowbound To Mabel . Me A Culpa 35 39 A Mortifying Subject 44 In the Elysian Fields 4^ IV CONTENTS. PAGE A Skcoxd Thought 50 A PUACTICAL QUEOTION 52 Er Tu, Berghe '? 53 Insomnia . . 54 Civil Service . o . 56 All or Nothing 59 A Philadelphia Claveruouse 61 Throwing Stones 63 Touching Bottom 68 HoNi SoiT Qui Mal y Pense . 72 IIis Washerwoman .76 MIXED. Within my earthly temple there 's a crowd : There 's one of us that 's humble, one that 's proud ; There 's one that 's broken-hearted for his sins, And one who, unrepentant, sits and grins ; There 's one who loves his neighbor as himself, And one who cares for naught but fame and pelf. From much corroding care I should be free If once I could determine which is Me. ONLY. Only a small bit of paper, With just a few dates, — notliing more, — Which at an unfortunate moment Glides down from my sleeve to the floor. Only an Argus-eyed proctor, Who, ever upon the qui vive, Picks up, with suppressed exultation, The pajDer which dropped from my sleeve. Only four months in the country, — An extra vacation, that 's all ; But the trade of a proctor still strikes me As something exceedingly small. THINK that if I had a farm I 'd be a man of sense ; And if the day was bright and warm I 'd sit upon the fence, And cahnly smoke a pensive pipe, And think about my pigs, And wonder if the corn was ripe, And counsel Vliomme qui digs. PROCUL NEGOTIIS. Anil if the clay was wet and cold, I think I should admire To sit and dawdle over old Montaigne, before the fire ; And pity boobies who could lie And squabble, just for pelf, And thank my lucky stars that I Was nicely fixed myself. THE SONG OF THE BLOOD. Some like upon the winding Charles To ply the bending oar ; Nor reck they if their backs are burned And every muscle sore. But as for me, it suits me not : I '11 ever be content To loaf in front of Holworthy, And toss the shining cent. Some like to hurl the pig-skin sphere Ofttimes on Jarvis field ; Nor ask a greater pleasure than The willow bat to wield. But as for me, it suits me best, With calm, unruffled mien. To loaf in front of Holworthy, And gamble on the green. 10 THE SOXG OF THE BLOOD. Some like to grind the livelong day, And think it is immense To study for their annuals, And take in large per cents ; But as for me, oh, give me rest. And let me, free from care, Sit on the steps of Holworthy, And take the evening air ! THE LOAFER'S LAMENT. My heated brain is burning, My soul for rest is yearning, Speak to me not concerning My duties as a grind ; But bring the cooling tankard For which I long have hankered When at my side it 's anchored I '11 consolation find. Fair Idleness, thou devil ! Thou charming sprite of evil ! How in tliy charms I '11 revel When my degree is won ! But if to-day I woo thee, To-morrow I shall rue thee. With longing eyes I view thee. While yet thy spells I shun. JILTED. Stay me with flagons, . . . for I am sick of love. — Cant. ii. 5. To seem gay and youthful I 'm trying, But my heart is as old as the hills, And I feel that those parties are lying Who tell me that grief never kills. JILTED. 13 My story has oft been related ; I fit in an old, old groove, Since never, as some one lias stated, The course of true love ran smooth. Susceptible, young, and romantic, I thought her an angel of light ; And still, save when grief makes rae frantic, I firmly believe I was right. An angel she was, but the healing She bore on her wings was a part Of the means that she used for annealing Another young man's broken heart. And that 's why I say, " Bring on flagons. And place them convenient for me ! " 'T is not that I wish to see dragons And snakes, as we do in " D. T." 14 JILTED. No, no : 't is because I would quiet This sorrow to which I am linked ; While fancy, unshackled, runs riot, And memories grow indistinct. Let me cherish once more the delusion That girls are as true as they seem. And, during my mental confusion. Imagine it all was a dream. BROKE, BROKE, BROKE! Broke, broke, broke ! I have squandered tlie uttermost sou, And have failed in my efforts to utter One trivial, last I. O. U. Oh, well for the infant in arms That for ducats he need not fret ; Oh, well for the placid corpse That he 's settled his final debt. And dun after dun comes in, Each bringing his little account ; And oh for the touch of a five-dollar bill, Or a check for a large amount ! 16 BROKE, BROKE, BROKE! Broke, broke, broke I My course as a student is run ; I "11 back to my cliiklhood's home, and act The rule of the Prodigal Son. REFORM. Yes, I know that I once was a bummer, The laziest drone of the swarm; But I tell you I started last summer The glorious work of reform. As Freshman I swallowed my bitters, And thought that I cut quite a dash; A Soph'more I raised endless litters Of pups, and a feeble mustache ; A Junior, — how oft the Dean's letter Made the hearts of my parents feel sore ! I was young then, but now I know better, I'll never do so any more. 2 18 REFORM. Don't speak of the bliss of potation, Don't tell me that lager is cheap : Don't hint that I need recreation, Nor doubt if I get enough sleep. Ere I spend it I look at each nickel With fond, parsimonious care; P'r'aps you notice how Time's ruthless sickle Has shortened the trousers I wear ! Am I thin? Quite correct your conjecture. Memorial Hall is the place : We breakfast upon architecture. For luncheon we merely say grace. While you, sir, are placidly sleeping The sleep of the thoughtless and free, A studious party is keeping A vigil in my room : That 's me. REFORM. - 19 I know that they were evanescent. My many reforms of the past; But I feel myself certain, at present, That this one is going to last. ,How sweet, while lingering near a cross-walk muddy, When Sol in March dissolves the tardy snows. To lose one's self in contemplative study! Of symmetry which gathered skirts disclose ! A GUM GAME. 21 But how disheartening when, to optics eager To glean of patient watchfulness the fruits, The petticoat, soil scorning, grants a meagre Display of dingy, shapeless rubber boots ! FUIT ILIUM. Weee you nurtured in the purple ? Were you retired a "pampered pet ? Did a menial throng encircle You, in waiting while you ate? When a baby, had you lockets, Silver cups and forks and spoons ? Were there coins in the pockets Of your childhood's pantaloons? Did hereditary shekels Make your sweethearts deem you fair,' Reconcile them to your freckles And your carrot-colored hair ? In electrifying raiment Were you every day attired ? Was the promptness of your payment Universally admired ? FUIT ILIUM. 23 Did your father, too confiding, Sign the paper of his friends ? Did his railway-stock, subsiding, Cease to pay him dividends ? Are his buildings slow in renting ? Did his banker pilfer, slope. And, absconding, leave lamenting Creditors to live on hope? Ere you dissipate a quarter Do you scrutinize it twice? Have you ceased to look on water Drinking as a nauseous vice? Do you wear your brother's breeches. Though the buttons scarcely meet? Does the vanity of riches Form no part of your conceit? I am with you, fellow pauper ! Let us share our scanty crust; 24 FUIT ILIUM. Burst the bonds of fiscal torpor, Go where beer is sold on trust. Let us, freed from res angu^tce^ Seek some fair Utopian mead, Where the throat is never dusty, And tobacco grows — a weed. EPITHALAMIUM. iHE marriage-bells have rung their peal, The wedding-march has told its story; I 've seen her at the altar kneel In all her stainless virgin glory; She 's bound to honor, love, obey, Come joy or sorrow, tears or laughter. I watched her as she rode away, And flung the lucky slipper after. 26 EPirilALAMIUM. She Avas my first, my very first, My earliest inamorata; And to the passion that I nursed For her I ahnost was a martyr. For I was young, and she was fair, And always bright and gay and chipper; And oh, she wore such pretty hair ! Such silken stockings ! Such a slipper ! She did not wish to make me mourn, — She was the kindest of God's creatures; But flirting was in her inborn, Like brains and queerness in the Beechers. I do not fear your heartless flirt, — Obtuse her dart and dull her probe is; But when girls do not mean to hurt, But do^ — Orate tunc pro nobis ! A most romantic country place ; The moon at full, the month of August ; EPITHALAMIUM. 27 An inland lake, across whose face Played gentle zephyrs, ne'er a raw gust ; Books, boats, and horses, to enjoy The which was all our occupation, A damsel and a callow boy; — There ! Now you have the situation. We rode together miles and miles ; My pupil she, and I her Chiron. At home I reveled in her smiles. And read her extracts out of Byron. We roamed by moonlight, chose our stars (I thought it most authentic billing), Explored the woods, climbed over bars, Smoked cigarettes, and broke a shilling. An infinitely blissful week Went by in this Arcadian fashion : I hesitated long to speak. But ultimately breathed my passion. 28 EPITHALAMIUM. She said her heart was not her own ; She said she 'd love me like a sister ; She cried a little (not alone) ; I told ber not to fret, and — kissed her. I lost some sleep, some pounds in weight, A deal of time, and all my spirits ; And much — how much I dare not state — • I mused upon that damsel's merits. I tortured my unhappy soul ; I wished I never might recover ; I hoped her marriage-bells might toll A requiem for her faithful lover. And now she 's married ; now she wears A wedding-ring upon her finger : And I — although it odd appears — Still in the flesh I seem to linger. Lo, there my swallow-tail, and here Lies by my side a wedding favor ; EPITHALAMIUM. 29 Beside it stands a mug of beer ; I taste it, — how divine it 's flavor! I saw her, in her bridal dress. Stand pure and lovely at the altar ; I heard her firm response — that " Yes " Without a quiver or a falter. And here I sit and drink to her Long life and happiness, God bless her J Now fill again ! No heel-taps, sir ! Here 's to — success to her successor ! AGAIN. I WONDER why my brow is burning, Why sleep to close my lids forgets ; I wonder why I have a yearning To smoke incessant cigarettes. I wonder why my thoughts will wander, And all restraint of mine defy. And why — excuse the rhyme — a gander Is not more of a goose than I. I have an indistinct impression I had these symptoms once before, And dull discomfort held possession Of the same spot that now is sore ; That some time, in a past that ranges From early whiskers up to bibs, My heart was ringing just such changes As now, against these self-same ribs. AGAIN. 31 I wish some philanthropic Jenner Might vaccinate against these ills, And help us keep our noiseless tenor Of life submissive to our wills ; And, ere our hearts were permeated With sentiments too warm by half, That we might be inoculated With the mild passion of a calf. SNOWBOUND. A Lmo Office ; tico Briefness Ones ; a Clock strikes. JAMES. One, two, three, four. It 's four o'clock ; There comes the postman round the block, And in a jiff we '11 hear his knock Most pleasant. Inform me, Thomas, will he bring To you, deserving no such thing, Letters from her whose praises ring Incessant ? THOMAS. Friend of my bosom, James, refrain From putting questions fraught with pain. And seeking facts I had not fain Imparted. SNOWBOUND. The said official on this stretch Will not, in my opinion, fetch Such documents to me, a wretch Down hearted. JAMES. Nay ; but I prithee, Thomas, tell To me, thy friend, who loves thee well, What cause there is for such a fell Deprival. Why is it that the message fails? Have broken ties, or twisted rails. Or storm, or snow delayed the mail's Arrival ? THOMAS. Jhou art, O James, a friend indeed To probe my wound and make it bleed; To know of my affairs thy greed Has no bound. 3 34 SNOWBOUND. The reason why you have not guessed ; If storm there were, 'twas in her breast; For there my letter, unexpressed. Lies snowbound. TO MABEL. I PON this anniversaree My little god-child, aged three, These compliments I make to thee. Quite heedless. And that you '11 throw them now away, But treasure them some future day. Are platitudes, the which to say Is needless. 36 TO MABEL. You small, stout damsel, mickle mou'd, With cropped tow-head and manners rude, And stormy spirit unsubdued By nurses, Where you were raised, was it in vogue To lisp that Tipperary brogue ? Oh, you 're a subject sweet, you rogue, For verses ! Last Sunday morning, when we stayed At home, 3'ou* got yourself arrayed In Lyman's clothes, and turned from maid To urchin ; And when we all laughed at you so You eyed outside the falling snow. And thought your rig quite fit to go To church in. Play on ! play on, dear little lass ! Play on till sixteen summers pass, TO MABEL. 37 And then I '11 bring a looking-glass, And there be- Fore you, on your lips, I '11 show The curves of small Dan Cupid's bow; And then the crop that now is " tow " Shall "fair" be. And then I '11 show you, too, the charms Of small firm hands and rounded arms, And eyes whose flashes send alarms Right through you ; And then a half-regretful sigh May break from me to think that I, At forty years, can never try To woo you. What shall I wish you ? Free from ruth To live and learn in love and truth Through childhood's day and days of youth, And school's day ; 38 TO MABEL. For all the days that intervene Twixt Mab at three and at nineteen Are but one sombre or serene All Fool's Day. MEA CULPA. Theee is a thing, which, in my brain Though nightly I revolve it, I cannot in the least explain, Nor do I hope to solve it. While others tread the narrow path, In manner meek and pious, Why is it that my spirit hatli So opposite a bias ? Brought up to fear the Lord, and dread The bottomless abysm, In Watts's hymns profoundly read. And drilled in catechism, I should have been a model youth, The pink of all that 's proper. I was not ; but, to tell the truth, I did not care a copper. 40 MEA CULPA. I bad no yearnings, Avlien a boy, To sport an angel's wrapper. Nor heard I with tumultuous joy The church-frequenting clapper. My actions always harmonized With my own sweet volition : I always did what I devised, But rarely asked permission. When o'er the holy book I 'd pore, And read of doings pristine, I had a fellow-feeling for The put-upon Philistine. King David gratified my taste, — He harped, and danced boleros ; But first the Prodigal was placed Upon my list of heroes. » I went to school. To study ? No ! I dearly loved to dally MEA CULPA. 41 And dawdle over Ivanhoe, Tom Brown, and Charles O'Malley. In recitation, I was used To halt on every sentence ; Repenting, seldom I produced Fruits proper for repentance. At college, later, I became Familiar with my Flaccus ; Brought incense to the Muses' flame. And sacrificed to Bacchus. I flourished in an air unfraught With sanctity's aroma ; Learned many things I was not taught, And captured a diploma. I am not well provided for, I have no great possessions ; I do not like the legal or Medicinal professions. 42 ME A CULPA. Were I of good repute, I might Take orders as a deacon ; But I 'm no bright and shining light, But just a warning beacon. Though often urged by friends sincere To woo some funded houri, I cannot read my title clear To any damsel's dowry. And could to wedlock I induce An heiress, I should falter, For fear that such a bridal noose Might prove a gilded halter. My tradesmen have suspicious grown ; My friends are tired of giving ; Upon the cold, cold world I 'm thrown, To hammer out my living. I fear that work before me lies : Indeed, I see no option, ME A CULPA. 43 Unless, perhaps, I advertise " An orphan — for adoption ! " A legacy of misspent time Is all that I 'm the heir to ; I cannot make my life sublime, However much I care to. And if, as now, I turn my head In retrospect a minute, 'T is but to recognize my bed Before I lie down in it. I am the man that I have been. And at the final summing How shall I bear to see sent in My score, — one long shortcoming! Unless when all the saints exclaim. With righteous wrath, " Peccavit 1 " Some mighty friend shall make his claim, " He suffered, and — amavit ! " A MORTIFYING SUBJECT. What is to be, I do not know ; What is, I do esteem To be so undesirable And worthless that I deem There must be something good in store, Something to keep in view, To reconcile us living here For living as we do. For life, — oh life, it seems a chore ; Its surface is so blurred By storms of passion that it makes One long to be interred ; To occupy a tranquil spot Some seven feet by two, And just serenely lie and rot. With nothing else to do. A MORTIFYING SUBJECT. 45 I think that when there ceased to be Sufficient tenement To hold my conscience, then I would Begin to be content. And if I should be there to see My stomach take its leave, I 'd gather up my mouldering shroud And chuckle in my sleeve. I think that when the greedy worm Began upon my brains, I 'd wish him luck, and hope he 'd get His dinner for his pains. I 'd warn him that they would be apt With him to disagree, For if they fed him well, 't were what They seldom did for me. But when I should be certain that My scarred and battered heart 46 A MORTIFYING SUBJECT. Was of my corpomlity Not any more a part, Though I 'd no voice, I 'd rattle in My throat with joyous tones, And, with no feelings left, I would Feel happy in my bones. IN THE ELYSIAN FIELDS: What I you here ? Why, old man, I never Felt more surprise, or more delight. Who would have dreamt that you would ever Parade around in robes of white? I always thought of you as dodging The coals and fire-brands somewhere else ; And here you are, with board and lodging, Where not so much as butter melts. Well, well, old man, if you can stand it Up here, I '11 never make a fuss. I had forebodings that they 'd planned it A little stiff for men like us. The boys were much cut up about you, You got away so very quick ; And as for me, to do without you — It absolutely made me sick. 48 IN THE ELY SI AN FIELDS. I wish you could have seen us plant you, Why, every man squeezed out a tear. And just, imagine us, — now can't you ? — The gang, and yours the only bier ! Fred hammered out some bully verses ; We had them printed in the sheet, With lines funereal as hearses Around them. Oh, it did look sweet ! Halloo ! Is that Sir Walter Raleigh ? I wish you 'd point the people out : I want to look at Tom Macaulay ; Is Makepeace anywhere about? Where 's Socrates ? Where 's Sydney Carton ?■ Oh, — I forgot : he was a myth. If there 's a thing I 've set my heart on, It is to play with Sydney Smith. What ? Glad I came ? I am, for certain ; The other 's a malarious hole ; IN THE ELY SI AN FIELDS. 49 I always pined to draw the curtain, And, somehow, knew I had a soul. The flesh, — oh, was n't it a fetter ? You 'd get so tired of all your schemes. But here I think I '11 like it better ; Oh dear, how natural it seems ! 4 A SECOND THOUGHT. This world 's the worst I ever saw ; I 'd like to make it better. I 'm going to promulgate the law, And hold men to its letter. Be respectable, and stand Esteemed of Mrs. Grundy ; Attend to business week-days, and Head moral books on Sunday. On Sabbath-keepers, every one, Approvingly I smile, and Frown on those who spend their Sun- Days down at Coney Island, Don't play cards, young man ; Gobanj Affords amusement ample. Speak carefull}^, eschewing slang, And set a good example. A SECOND THOUGHT. 51 The theatres, — how bad they be ! The players, — oh, how vicious ! The waltz I shudder when I see, And think it most pernicious. Shun the wine-cup : don't be led To drink by scoff or banter ; In the cup lurk pains of head, And snakes in the decanter. Ah rae ! I wonder if I 'm right ! I say it 's wrong to do so, As though, without a soul in sight, I ruled alone, like Crusoe. Is it that I am partly wrong. And partly right, my neighbor, -And that we get, who toil so long, Half truths for all our labor ? A PRACTICAL QUESTION. Darkly the humorist Muses on fate ; Ghastly experiment Life seems to him ; Subject for merriment Sombre and grim. Is it his doom, or is 't Something he ate ? ET TU, BERGHE! And art thou, Bergh, so firmly set Against domestic strife As to correct with stripes the man Who disciplines his wife ? Such action does not of thy creed Appear the normal fruit : Thou shouldst befriend a being who Behaves so like a brute ! INSOMNIA. Come, vagrant sleep, and close the lid Upon the casket of my thought ! Come, truant, come when thou art bid, And let thyself be caught ! For lonely is the night, and still. And, save my own, no breath I hear ; No other mind, no other will, Nor heart, nor hand, is near. Thy waywardness what prayer can move? Canst thou by any lui-e be brought ? INSOMNIA. 55 Or art tliou, then, like woman's love, That only comes unsought ? Up! Where 's my dressing-gown? My pipe is here. Slumber be hanged ! Now for a book and beer. CIVIL SERVICE. On Pennsylvania Avenue He stood and waited for a car; He turned to catch a parting view Of where the Public Buildings are. He looked at them with thoughtful eye; He took his hat from off his head ; He heaved a half-regretful sigh, And thus he said : " My relative, I do the bidding Of Fate, and say to thee good-by. I think thee fortunate at ridding Thyself of such a clerk as I. Thy sure sujDport, though somewhat meagre, Hath much about it to commend ; Nor am I now so passing eager To leave so provident a friend. CIVIL SERVICE. bl " Light was tliy yoke, could I have borne it With tranquil mind and step sedate : Why did my feeble shoulders scorn it, And seem to crave a heavier -weie-ht ? Extremely blest is his condition Whose needs thy bounteous hands supply, If he but fling away ambition. And let the world go rushing by. " Indocilis pauperiem pati, I must get out of this damp spot. Away ! away ! Whatever fate I May have in store, I fear it not. Away from all my soul despises. From paltry aims, from sordid cares ; Fame, honor, love, time's richest prizes, Lie waiting for the man who dares. '• The man who calls no man his master, Nor bows his head to tinsel gods; 58 CIVIL SERVICE. Who f.aces debt, disease, disaster, And never murmurs at the odds, Although his life from its beginning Marks only fall succeeding fall, — Let him fight on, and trust to winning In death the ricliest prize of all." He jammed his hat down on his head ; He turned from where tlie Buildings are ; Precipitately thence he fled. And caught a passing car. ALL OR NOTHING. Happy the man whose far remove From business and the giddy throng Fits him in the paternal groove Unquestioning to glide along; Apart from struggle and from strife, Content to live by labor's fruits, And wander down the vale of life In o-iiiffliam shirt and cowhide boots. He too is blest who, from within By strong and lasting impulse stirred, Faces the turmoil and the din Of rushing life ; whom hope deferred But more incites ; who ever strives. And wants, and works, and waits, until The multitude of other lives Pay glorious tribute to his will. 60 ALL OR NOTHING. But he ■who, greedy of renown, Is too tenacious of his ease, — Alas for him ! Nor busy town Nor country with his mood agrees. Eager to reap, but loath to sow, He longs monstrari digito ; And looking on with envious eyes, Lives restless, and obscurely dies. A PHILADELPHIA CLAVERHOUSE. To the fathers in council 't was Witherspoon spoke "Our best beloved dogmas we cannot revoke. God's infinite mercy let others record, And teach men to trust in their crucified Lord; The old superstitions let others dispel ; I feel it my duty to go in for hell. » Perdition is needful ; beyond any doubt Hell fire is a thing that we can't do without. The bottomless pit is our very best claim ; To leave it unworked were a sin and a shame: We must keep it up, i£ we like it, or not, And make it eternal, and make it red hot. « To others the doctrine of love may be dear ; I own I confide in the doctrine of fear: 62 A PHILADELPHIA CLAVERIIOUSE. There's nothing, I think, so effective to make Our weak fellow-creatures their errors forsake. As to tell them abruptly, with unchanging front, ' You '11 be damned if you do ! You '11 be damned if you don't ! ' "Saltpetre and pitchforks, with brimstone and coals Are arguments suited to rescue men's souls. A new generation forthwith must arise. With Beelzebub pictured before their young eyes : They '11 be brave , they '11 be true, they '11 be gentle and kind, Because they have Satan forever in mind." THROWING STONES. «I LOVE my child," the actress wrote. " My duty is to guide The child I bore, and in my arms The child I love shall hide: • Shall hide from missiles cast at me, Because I have so odd A conscience that I choose to rear The child I took from God." There is a sin from which us all May gracious Heaven guard ; Which is its own worst punishment, Itself its sole reward. And of it social law has said To man, "If sin you must, 64 THROWING STONES. Go, then ! And come again, but leave The woman in the dust ! " Ah ! who can know, save Him Allwise Who watches from above, The awful hazard women dare To run for men they love? Or tell how many a craven heart, To shield his own bad name, Has caused a woman's trustful love To bring her lasting shame? To her who, wlien the dream has passed, Finds herself left alone, . And in her crushed, repentant heart A j^earning to atone, Heaven, more merciful than man, Who erst upon her smiled, By love to win her to itself May send a little child. THROWING STONES. 65 Then, if the lonely mother's heart Accepts the gracious gift, And if the charge she dared to take She does not dare to shift ; Shall "we, un tempted and untried, To ease and virtue bom, Visit u[)on her shrinking head Our unrelentino; scorn? We, who have all our lives been taught Truths other men have learned, And walked by Avhat celestial light In other bosoms burned ; We, whose sublimest duty is To do as we are bid, — How shall we judge a soul from which The face of God is hid? Know you the loneliness of heart That courts release from Death? 5 66 THROWING STONES. That makes it burdensome to draw- Each slow, successiN'B breath ? That longs for human sympathy, Until, when hope is lost, A respite from its agony It buys at any cost ? Of erring human nature we Ave born each with his share : We all are vain ; we all are weak, And quick to fly from care ; And if we keep our footing, Or seem to rise at all, 'T were well for us with charity To look on those who fall. And if our hands are strengthened. And if our lips can speak, 'T were well if with them we might help Our brothers who are weak; THROWING STONES. 67 And well if we remember God's love is never grudged, And never sit in judgment, If we would not be judged. olicHi|vl^J3oTro]H. THINK that I have somewhere read Abovit a man, whose foolish head, By mischievous intention led, A sprite Had with an ass's visage decked. That all who met him might detect His intellectual defect At sight. TOUCHING BOTTOM. 69 The trite remark of man and book, That many men are men in look, But donkeys really, thus the spook Reversed. The victim of the imp's design Had such a head as yours or mine. Although his did look asinine At first. But Love — I think the story rail' — Was proof against the fairy's plan. Discerning, through the mask, the man, Perhaps ; Or is it true that women try But very faintly to descry Long ears on heads that occupy Their laps? I know a youth whose fancy gropes For head-gear finer than the Pope's; 70 TOUCHING BOTTOM. So him his bright and treacherous hopes Delude. But in the mirror of his fears When this too sanguine person peers, Alas! behold the jackass ears Protrude ! To him it happens, now and then. That over products of his pen He cackles, as o'er eggs the hen Who lays. To find that to another's ear His cherished sentiments appear, Not utterances strong and clear. But braj's. Titania mine, if I could find You ever to my follies blind, Such deep content would rule my mind Within TOUCHING BOTTOM. 71 That, even though myself aware Of pointed ears adorned witli hair, I do not think that I should care A pin. HONI SOIT QUI MAL Y PENSE. It was my happy lot to meet, Upon a late occasion, While seeking of the summer's heat Agreeable evasion, By visiting at a resort Of fashion, — where, no matter, — A maid whom there was none to court, And very few to flatter. Her head had not the graceful poise Of Aphrodite's statue; Her hair reminded you of boys, Her nose was pointed at you. A Derby hat, the self-same sort The fashionable male owes Money for, she used to sport, As angels do their haloes. HONI SOIT QUI MAL Y PENSE. T3 She seldom walked in silk attire, But commonly in flannel ; Nor yet in oils did she aspire To figure on a panel : Because she could not help but see She was not tall nor slender; Nor did she deem her curves to be Superlatively tender. Some prudish dames did her abuse With censure fierce and scathing, Because she, happening to lose Her stocking while in bathing, Deemed such a loss of little note. And made no fuss about it ; But tied the stocking round her throat, And reappeared without it. I do not think that for the pelf Of eligible boobies, 74 IIONI SOIT QUI MAL Y PENSE. Or for the chance to deck herself With diamonds and rubies, Or for her standing in the books Of prim and proper ladies, Or for their disapproving looks, Siie cared a hoot from Hades. Though competent to hold her tongue, When circumstance demanded Speech, she was, for one so young, Astonishingly candid. She sang tlie cheerfullest of songs, Which, sung by her, were funny ; And never brooded on her wrongs. Or hoarded up her money. 'T is true, this careless damsel's fame At last grew rather shady. But if the man disposed to name Her fast, or not a lady, HON I SO IT QUI MAL Y PENSE. 75 Permits his strictures to be aired Where I can overhaul him, The present writer is prepared To strict account to call him. "My laundress! my laundress! she causes me dis- tress, And woe, and anguisli infinite, and endless bitter- ness." 'Twas thus, with fingers in his hair, exclaimed the Muse's scion. HIS WASHERWOMAN. 77 And gazed upon — the night was fair — Arcturus and Orion. " Her bill she has sent in to me. What shall my cares dispel? For how to pay that small account I cannot, can- not tell! " My laundress ! my laundress ! When first for me she washed, My brow was smooth, my eye was clear, my soul was unabashed ; And when she came to get my clothes my manner was urbane. And I looked up and smiled, and asked if it were going to rain ; And she with all humility her eyes to mine would raise, Then, glancing at the clouds, would murmur, ' Yes, sor, av ye plaze !' 78 HIS WASHERWOMAN. " My laundress ! my laundress ! Her ways are al- tered now, And when she comes for clothes she comes with scorn upon her brow; With eyes downcast upon my book, I sit absorbed and still, Until she says, ' Young man, I 'd loike the money fur me bill: Me childer has no shoes to wear, me rint is overdue. Pay up, young man, and I '11 not be a troublin' of you!' " My laundress ! my laundress ! She sends a shad- owy boy To watch me mornings while I sleep, and damp my rising joy ; And when I wake from tranquil dreams and inno- cent repose, That small gossoon beside my bed is sitting on my clothes. HIS WASHERWOMAN. 79 He only says ' Miss Grady 'd loike the money, sor, to-day.' I, speechless, tur a toward the wall; he, silent, goes away. " I '11 go and see my laundress, and speak the truth unmasked ; I *11 tell her how impossible a favor she has asked ; I '11 say that I am penniless, and if I put up spout As much of my effects as I could get along with- out, The sum that I would realize upon them would amount To only one poor third of what is due on her ac- count. " I '11 say I sometimes contemplate absconding from the place, But that I 'ra not a scoundrel scamp, like Thack- eray's Deuceace ; 80 HIS WASHERWOMAN. And tliough I cannot pay her bill, I will not run away ; And then I 'II listen patiently to what she has to say. And when vituperation has taken off the edge Of her just wrath, I '11 speak, and thus I '11 put myself in pledge. " I '11 say, ' You have a daughter ; I know she is not fair. But never for mere looks did I particularly care. I often have remarked her, as, when the day was fine, She went with sprightly grace to hang my clothes upon the line ; And oft have I addressed her, and, though her speech was curt, I learned to love her, as she fixed a clothespin on my shirt ! HIS WASHERWOMAN. 81 "'I'll cultivate your daughter; I'll woo her with an art That shall not fail to quickly make impression on her heart ; And when her young affections with subtlety I 've won, I trust that you, dear madam, will receive me as your son. The duties that devolve on me I '11 never try to shirk, And what I cannot pay in cash you shall receive in work.' " /"*> I'n (jsi| y.usn?-^*' '^K. t^ ,/) /' C' d d/d d^cc::- ^ <: f ■ r-^: c <2 <&^ 5 ; ^^'^s ^^-^ c^ <^ ^ c C-