Second Book of Verse. Field Eugene
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Название: Second Book of Verse

Автор: Field Eugene

Издательство: Public Domain

Жанр: Поэзия

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СКАЧАТЬ Lover's Lane, Saint Jo.

      I would have a brown-eyed maiden

      Go driving once again;

      And I'd sing the song, as we snailed along,

      That I sung to that maiden then:

      I purposely say, "as we snailed along,"

      For a proper horse goes slow

      In those leafy aisles, where Cupid smiles,

      In Lover's Lane, Saint Jo.

      From her boudoir in the alders

      Would peep a lynx-eyed thrush,

      And we'd hear her say, in a furtive way,

      To the noisy cricket, "Hush!"

      To think that the curious creature

      Should crane her neck to know

      The various things one says and sings

      In Lover's Lane, Saint Jo!

      But the maples they should shield us

      From the gossips of the place;

      Nor should the sun, except by pun,

      Profane the maiden's face;

      And the girl should do the driving,

      For a fellow can't, you know,

      Unless he's neglectful of what's quite respectful

      In Lover's Lane, Saint Jo.

      Ah! sweet the hours of springtime,

      When the heart inclines to woo,

      And it's deemed all right for the callow wight

      To do what he wants to do;

      But cruel the age of winter,

      When the way of the world says no

      To the hoary men who would woo again

      In Lover's Lane, Saint Jo!

      In the Union Bank of London

      Are forty pounds or more,

      Which I'm like to spend, ere the month shall end,

      In an antiquarian store;

      But I'd give it all, and gladly,

      If for an hour or so

      I could feel the grace of a distant place, —

      Of Lover's Lane, Saint Jo.

      Let us sit awhile, beloved,

      And dream of the good old days, —

      Of the kindly shade which the maples made

      Round the stanch but squeaky chaise;

      With your head upon my shoulder,

      And my arm about you so,

      Though exiles, we shall seem to be

      In Lover's Lane, Saint Jo.

      CRUMPETS AND TEA

      THERE are happenings in life that are destined to rise

      Like dear, hallowed visions before a man's eyes;

      And the passage of years shall not dim in the least

      The glory and joy of our Sabbath-day feast, —

      The Sabbath-day luncheon that's spread for us three, —

      My worthy companions, Teresa and Leigh,

      And me, all so hungry for crumpets and tea.

      There are cynics who say with invidious zest

      That a crumpet's a thing that will never digest;

      But I happen to know that a crumpet is prime

      For digestion, if only you give it its time.

      Or if, by a chance, it should not quite agree,

      Why, who would begrudge a physician his fee

      For plying his trade upon crumpets and tea?

      To toast crumpets quite à la mode, I require

      A proper long fork and a proper quick fire;

      And when they are browned, without further ado,

      I put on the butter, that soaks through and through.

      And meantime Teresa, directed by Leigh,

      Compounds and pours out a rich brew for us three;

      And so we sit down to our crumpets – and tea.

      A hand-organ grinds in the street a weird bit, —

      Confound those Italians! I wish they would quit

      Interrupting our feast with their dolorous airs,

      Suggestive of climbing the heavenly stairs.

      (It's thoughts of the future, as all will agree,

      That we fain would dismiss from our bosoms when we

      Sit down to discussion of crumpets and tea!)

      The Sabbath-day luncheon whereof I now speak

      Quite answers its purpose the rest of the week;

      Yet with the next Sabbath I wait for the bell

      Announcing the man who has crumpets to sell;

      Then I scuttle downstairs in a frenzy of glee,

      And purchase for sixpence enough for us three,

      Who hunger and hanker for crumpets and tea.

      But soon – ah! too soon – I must bid a farewell

      To joys that succeed to the sound of that bell,

      Must hie me away from the dank, foggy shore

      That's filled me with colic and – yearnings for more!

      Then the cruel, the heartless, the conscienceless sea

      Shall bear me afar from Teresa and Leigh

      And the other twin friendships of crumpets and tea.

      Yet often, ay, ever, before my wan eyes

      That Sabbath-day luncheon of old shall arise.

      My stomach, perhaps, shall improve by the change,

      Since crumpets it seems to prefer at long range;

      But, oh, how my palate will hanker to be

      In London again with Teresa and Leigh,

      Enjoying the rapture of crumpets and tea!

      AN IMITATION OF DR. WATTS

      THROUGH all my life the poor shall find

      In me a constant friend;

      And on the meek of every kind

      My mercy shall attend.

      The dumb shall never call on me

      In vain for kindly aid;

      And in my hands the blind shall see

      A bounteous alms displayed.

      In all their walks the lame shall know

      And feel my goodness near;

      And on the deaf will I bestow

      My gentlest words of cheer.

      'Tis by such pious works as these,

      Which I delight to do,

      That men their fellow-creatures please,

      And please their Maker too.

      INTRY-MINTRY

      WILLIE and Bess, Georgie and May, —

      Once СКАЧАТЬ