Part 4 (1/2)

Old Dame Peach stuck like a leech to any good bargin what fell in her reach, She never let slip what come in her grip: however they turned she was ready for each; She'd strip herself bare or sell you her hair, or put up a price for her best china ware, Her very own bed in which she was wed would be yours in a second, if only you dare; Of childer she'd lots and would lend you their cots, and although you'd have backed her to lose in a race, Yet at business she shone when the others wor done; and n.o.body ever could stand in her place.

Among all the men she took care of her-sen and was never alarmed at the roughest of tricks, She'd sit in a bar suppin' ale from a jar, till a bargain was driven, her profit to fix.

Folk knew her all round and none ever was found but at one time or other had met her somehow, A good stand-up fight it was all her delight: she would get up at midnight to sell you a cow; She bested the men what came out of the Fen, and the folk from the Wold they found theirsens sold, While them from the Heath they was allers beneath; for however they tried they was out in the cold.

The top of the tree was our Mrs. P. at swapping a horse or a cargo of tea, She'd purchase old wicks or a truckload of bricks or a house full of furniture, just for a spree, Though she's mounted on high somewhere up in the sky, wherever she is there is business ahead, But I wish she was back when we'd have a real crack on the friends that are gone and the days that are fled; When her shop was a store and a thousand things more; with her busy in-gathering all she could reach: A jewel, a treasure, a caution, a pleasure: Oh! sadly we miss her, our Old Mrs. Peach.

Friends

Years ago, Simply ages; I don't know How the deuce they go: Like turning pages!

We're still friends at any rate; Nothing can invalidate The fun we had, Good or bad, Always together, Not caring whether Earthquake or thunder, Over or under; Joy in each heart; Singing like thrushes Young in bushes: Now--we're apart.

I've never been so happy since then: They talk of the love of women and men, It's not half so true as that of friends; Not pa.s.sionate, not selfish, Never ends ...

Not our fault to be forced away, Destiny came: A wedge: We could not turn its edge; And so it fell upon that bitter day.

We might have had such times!

But--No! No!

It wouldn't go; And after that 'twas never the same; I can't encompa.s.s it by rhymes, Halting and tame; There it lies-- Not to be altered by tears or sighs: We meet, stealing; Eyes on the door; With banished feeling-- But--No more!

Charing Cross--1916

Round Charing Cross in carrion row The crowd press in; a sight to see; Their mouths agape, their eyes aglow, With morbid curiosity.

Those twisted limbs, those bandaged faces!

Humanity all broken down!

The ghostly grim procession races: h.e.l.l's handicraft in London Town.

The b.e.s.t.i.a.l throng with pampered eyes-- Faces of goat or sheep or bull-- All greedy with a glad surprise Of ghoulish horror drinking full.

Heroic citizens, well nourished, Who feast your eyes:--What sight to see?

By you the Coliseum flourished; You thronged, as now, round Calvary.

Love not too much

Have you too greatly loved?

Sister take warning!

Once let your soul be moved, Sable your mourning; If he be satiate, Then an ingratiate, Waiteth the dawning.

Shew not the pa.s.sion That stirs in your veins, Far more alluring To handle the reins, His love ensuring....