The Book of Humorous Verse Part 72

He sees me in to supper go, A silken wonder by my side, Bare arms, bare shoulders, and a row Of flounces, for the door too wide.

He thinks how happy is my arm, 'Neath its white-gloved and jewelled load; And wishes me some dreadful harm, Hearing the merry corks explode.

Meanwhile I inly curse the bore Of hunting still the same old c.o.o.n, And envy him, outside the door, The golden quiet of the moon.

The winter wind is not so cold As the bright smile he sees me win, Nor the host's oldest wine so old As our poor gabble, sour and thin.

I envy him the rugged prance By which his freezing feet he warms, And drag my lady's chains, and dance, The galley-slave of dreary forms.

Oh, could he have my share of din, And I his quiet--past a doubt 'Twould still be one man bored within, And just another bored without.

_James Russell Lowell._

SAME OLD STORY

History, and nature, too, repeat themselves, they say; Men are only habit's slaves; we see it every day.

Life has done its best for me--I find it tiresome still; For nothing's everything at all, and everything is nil.

Same old get-up, dress, and tub; Same old breakfast; same old club; Same old feeling; same old blue; Same old story--nothing new!

Life consists of paying bills as long as you have health; Woman? She'll be true to you--as long as you have wealth; Think sometimes of marriage, if the right girl I could strike; But the more I see of girls, the more they are alike.

Same old giggles, smiles, and eyes; Same old kisses; same old sighs; Same old chaff you; same adieu; Same old story--nothing new!

Go to theatres sometimes to see the latest plays; Same old plots I played with in my happy childhood's days; Hero, same; same villain; and same heroine in tears, Starving, homeless, in the snow--with diamonds in her ears.

Same stern father making "bluffs"; Leading man all teeth and cuffs; Same soubrettes, still twenty-two; Same old story--nothing new!

Friend of mine got married; in a year or so, a boy!

Father really foolish in his fond paternal joy; Talked about that "kiddy," and became a dreadful bore-- Just as if a baby never had been born before.

Same old crying, only more; Same old business, walking floor; Same old "kitchy--coochy--coo!"

Same old baby--nothing new!

_Harry B. Smith._

VI

EPIGRAMS

WOMAN'S WILL

Men, dying, make their wills, but wives Escape a work so sad; Why should they make what all their lives The gentle dames have had?

_John G. Saxe._

CYNICUS TO W. SHAKESPEARE

You wrote a line too much, my sage, Of seers the first, and first of sayers; For only half the world's a stage, And only all the women players.

_James Kenneth Stephen._

SENEX TO MATT. PRIOR

Ah! Matt, old age has brought to me Thy wisdom, less thy certainty; The world's a jest, and joy's a trinket; I knew that once,--but now I think it.

_James Kenneth Stephen._

TO A BLOCKHEAD

You beat your pate, and fancy wit will come: Knock as you please, there's n.o.body at home.

_Alexander Pope._

THE FOOL AND THE POET

Sir, I admit your general rule, That every poet is a fool, But you yourself may serve to show it, That every fool is not a poet.

_Alexander Pope._