Works

There was an old person of Dundalk,
Who tried to teach fishes to walk;
When they tumbled down dead,
He grew weary, and said,
"I had better go back to Dundalk!"

There was an old person of Shoreham,
Whose habits were marked by decorum;
He bought an Umbrella,
And sate in the cellar,
Which pleased all the people of Shoreham.

There was an old person of Bar,
Who passed all her life in a jar,
Which she painted pea-green,
To appear more serene,
That placid old person of Bar.

There was a young person of Kew,
Whose virtues and vices were few;
But with blamable haste
She devoured some hot paste,
Which destroyed that young person of Kew.

There was an old person of Jodd,
Whose ways were perplexing and odd;
She purchased a whistle,
And sate on a thistle,
And squeaked to the people of Jodd.

There was an old person of Bude,
Whose deportment was vicious and crude;
He wore a large ruff
Of pale straw-colored stuff,
Which perplexed all the people of Bude.

There was an old person of Brigg,
Who purchased no end of a wig;
So that only his nose,
And the end of his toes,
Could be seen when he walked about Brigg.

There was an old man of Messina,
Whose daughter was named Opsibeena;
She wore a small wig,
And rode out on a pig,
To the perfect delight of Messina.

He that may sin, sins least: leave to transgress
Enfeebles much the seeds of wickedness.

("Puisque j'ai mis ma l'vre ' ta coupe.")

[XXV., Jan. 1, 1835.]


Since I have set my lips to your full cup, my sweet,
Since I my pallid face between your hands have laid,...

The noisy fire,
The drumming wind,
The creaking trees,
And all that hum
Of summer air
And all the long inquietude
Of breaking seas----

Sweet and delightful are
In loneliness....

[From Arthur Selwyn's Note-book.]

[More Ways Than One.]

I was present, one day
Where both layman and priest
Worshipped God in a way
That was startling, at least:
Over thirty in place...

In dim samite was she bedight,
And on her hair a hoop of gold,
Like fox-fire in the tawn moonlight,
Was glimmering cold.

With soft gray eyes she gloomed and glowered;...

Morgan the drover explained,
As he drank from his battered quart-pot,
Many a slut I have trained;
This is the best of the lot.

Crossing these stringybark hills,
Hungry and rocky and steep...

A song of the setting sun!
The sky in the west is red,
And the day is all but done:
While yonder up overhead,
All too soon,
There rises, so cold, the cynic moon.

A song of a winter day!...

Tempora labuntur, tacitisque senescimus annis,
Et fugiunt freno non remorante dies.--OVID, Fastorum, Lib. vi.


"O Caesar, we who are about to die
Salute you!" was the gladiators' cry...

TO KENNA.

England, a long farewell! a long farewell,
My country, to thy woods, and streams, and hills!
Where I have heard in youth the Sabbath bell,
For many a year now mute: affection fills...

Morn hath a secret that she never tells:
'Tis on her lips and in her maiden eyes -
I think it is the way to Paradise,
Or of the Fount of Youth the crystal wells.
The bee hath no such honey in her cells...

The mist has left the greening plain,
The dew-drops shine like fairy rain,
The coquette rose awakes again
Her lovely self adorning.
The Wind is hiding in the trees,
A sighing, soothing, laughing tease,...

... And all the streets lie smooth and shining there.
Only occasionally does a solid citizen hurry along them.
A swell girl argues violently with Papa.
A baker happens to be looking at the lovely sky....