The Humourous Poetry of the English Language

63
Chip hat without flower or feather--
Well-gloved and enchantingly boddiced,
Her waist like the cup of a lily--
And an air, that, while daintily modest,
Repell'd both the saucy and silly--
Quite the thing!
For such a rare wonder you'll say, sir,
There's reason in tearing one's tether--
And, to see her again in Broadway, sir,
Who would not be lavish of leather!
I met her again, and as YOU know
I'm sage as old Voltaire at Ferney--
But I said a bad word--for my Juno
Look'd sweet on a sneaking attorney--
Horrid thing!
Away flies the dream I had nourish'd--
My castles like mockery fall, sir!
And, now, the fine airs that she flourish'd
Seem varnish and crockery all, sir!
The bright cup which angels might handle
Turns earthy when finger'd by asses--
And the star that "swaps" light with a candle,
Thenceforth for a pennyworth passes!--
Not the thing!
YOU KNOW IF IT WAS YOU
N. P. WILLIS.
As the chill'd robin, bound to Florida
Upon a morn of autumn, crosses flying
The air-track of a snipe most passing fair--
Yet colder in her blood than she is fair--
And as that robin lingers on the wing,
And feels the snipe's flight in the eddying air,
And loves her for her coldness not the less--
But fain would win her to that warmer sky