Part 4 (1/2)

Old letters! wipe away the tear For vows and hopes so vainly worded?

A pilgrim finds his journal here Since first his youthful loins were girded.

Yes, here are wails from Clapham Grove, How could philosophy expect us To live with Dr. Wise, and love Rice pudding and the Greek Delectus?

Explain why childhood's path is sown With moral and scholastic tin-tacks; Ere sin original was known, Did Adam groan beneath the syntax?

How strange to parley with the dead!

_Keep ye your green_, wan leaves? How many From Friends.h.i.+p's tree untimely shed!

And here is one as sad as any;

A ghastly bill! ”I disapprove,”

And yet She help'd me to defray it-- What tokens of a Mother's love!

O, bitter thought! I can't repay it.

And here's the offer that I wrote In '33 to Lucy Diver; And here John Wylie's begging note,-- He never paid me back a stiver.

And here my feud with Major Spike, Our bet about the French Invasion; I must confess I acted like A donkey upon that occasion.

Here's news from Paternoster Row!

How mad I was when first I learnt it: They would not take my Book, and now I'd give a trifle to have burnt it.

And here a pile of notes, at last, With ”love,” and ”dove,” and ”sever,” ”never,”-- Though hope, though pa.s.sion may be past, Their perfume is as sweet as ever.

A human heart should beat for two, Despite the scoffs of single scorners; And all the hearths I ever knew Had got a pair of chimney corners.

See here a double violet-- Two locks of hair--a deal of scandal; I'll burn what only brings regret-- Go, Betty, fetch a lighted candle.

MY NEIGHBOUR ROSE.

Though slender walls our hearths divide, No word has pa.s.sed from either side, Your days, red-lettered all, must glide Unvexed by labour: I've seen you weep, and could have wept; I've heard you sing, and may have slept; Sometimes I hear your chimneys swept, My charming neighbour!

Your pets are mine. Pray what may ail The pup, once eloquent of tail?

I wonder why your nightingale Is mute at sunset!

Your puss, demure and pensive, seems Too fat to mouse. She much esteems Yon sunny wall--and sleeps and dreams Of mice she once ate.

Our tastes agree. I doat upon Frail jars, turquoise and celadon, The ”Wedding March” of Mendelssohn, And _Penseroso_.

When sorely tempted to purloin Your _pieta_ of Marc Antoine, Fair Virtue doth fair play enjoin, Fair Virtuoso!

At times an Ariel, cruel-kind, Will kiss my lips, and stir your blind, And whisper low, ”She hides behind; Thou art not lonely.”

The tricksy sprite did erst a.s.sist At hushed Verona's moonlight tryst; Sweet Capulet! thou wert not kissed By light winds only.

I miss the simple days of yore, When two long braids of hair you wore, And _chat botte_ was wondered o'er, In corner cosy.