Us two wuz boys when we fell out,—
Nigh to the age uv my youngest now;
Don’t rec’lect what ’t wuz about,
Some small deeff’rence, I ’ll allow.
Lived next neighbors twenty years,
A-hatin’ each other, me ’nd Jim,—
He havin’ his opinyin uv me,
’Nd I havin’ my opinyin uv him.
Grew up together ’nd would n’t speak,
...
Keep me, I pray, in wisdom’s way,
That I may truths eternal seek;
I need protecting care to-day,—
My purse is light, my flesh is weak.
So banish from my erring heart
All baleful appetites and hints
Of Satan’s fascinating art,
Of first editions, and of prints.
Direct me in some godly walk
Which leads away from...
Dear wife, last midnight, whilst I read
The tomes you so despise,
A spectre rose beside the bed,
And spake in this true wise:
“From Canaan’s beatific coast
I ’ve come to visit thee,
For I am Frognall Dibdin’s ghost,”
Says Dibdin’s ghost to me.
I bade him welcome, and we twain
Discussed with buoyant hearts...
To the FOUNTAIN OF BANDUSIA
O FOUNTAIN of Bandusia!
Whence crystal waters flow,
With garlands gay and wine I ’ll pay
The sacrifice I owe;
A sportive kid with budding horns
I have, whose crimson blood
Anon shall dye and sanctify
Thy cool and babbling flood.
O fountain of Bandusia!
The Dog-star’s hateful...
When she comes home again! A thousand ways
I fashion, to myself, the tenderness
Of my glad welcome: I shall tremble—yes;
And touch her, as when first in the old days
I touched her girlish hand, nor dared upraise
Mine eyes, such was my faint heart’s sweet distress.
Then silence: and the perfume of her dress:
The room will sway a little,...
Old man never had much to say—
’Ceptin’ to Jim,—
And Jim was the wildest boy he had,
And the old man jes’ wrapped up in him!
Never heerd him speak but once
Er twice in my life,—and first time was
When the army broke out, and Jim he went,
The old man backin’ him, fer three months;
And all ’at I heerd the old man say
Was...
There! little girl, don’t cry!
They have broken your doll, I know;
And your tea-set blue,
And your play-house, too,
Are things of the long ago;
But childish troubles will soon pass by.—
There! little girl, don’t cry!
There! little girl, don’t cry!
They have broken your slate, I know;...
And this is the way the baby woke:
As when in deepest drops of dew
The shine and shadows sink and soak,
The sweet eyes glimmered through and through;
And eddyings and dimples broke
About the lips, and no one knew
Or could divine the words they spoke,—
And this is the way the baby woke.
This is the way the baby slept:
A mist of tresses backward thrown
By quavering sighs where kisses crept
With yearnings she had never known:
The little hands were closely kept
About a lily newly blown—
And God was with her. And we wept.—
And this is the way the baby slept.
Let me come in where you sit weeping,—ay,
Let me, who have not any child to die,
Weep with you for the little one whose love
I have known nothing of.
The little arms that slowly, slowly loosed
Their pressure round your neck; the hands you used
To kiss.—Such arms—such hands I never knew.
May I not weep with you?
