Thou pretty opening rose ! (Go to your mother, child, and wipe your nose !) Balmy and breathing music like the South, (He really brings my heart into my mouth !) Fresh as the morn, and brilliant as its star,— (I wish that window had an iron bar!) Bold as the hawk, yet gentle as the dove,— (I'll tell you what, my love, I cannot write, unless he's sent above!) IV A SERENADE "Lullaby, oh, lullaby!" Thus I heard a father cry, "Lullaby, oh, lullaby! The brat will never shut an eye; Hither come, some power divine! Close his lids, or open mine! "Lullaby, oh, lullaby! What the devil makes him cry? Still he stares-I wonder why, Blind, like puppies, from the birth?” "Lullaby, oh, lullaby!" Mary, you must come and try!- "Lullaby, oh, lullaby! "Lullaby, oh, lullaby! Two such nights, and I shall die! He'll be bruised, and so shall I‚— How can I from bedposts keep, When I'm walking in my sleep?" "Lullaby, oh, lullaby! Sleep his very looks deny— Lullaby, oh lullaby; Nature soon will stupify My nerves relax,-my eyes grow dimWho's that fallen-me or him?" THE GREEN MAN TOM SIMPSON was as nice a kind of man Or play French horns like Mr. Rogers— The Gentleman did like a drop too much, (Tho' there are many such) And took more Port than was exactly portable. In fact, to put the cap upon the nipple, On Cribb's Prize Cup-Yes, wrong in ev'ry letter- Of Fancy's lads, and give a broadish hint to them, That he got into them. Once in the company of merry mates, In spite of Temperance's ifs and buts, So sure as Eating is set off with plates, His Drinking always was bound up with cuts! Howbeit, such Bacchanalian revels Palsy, Dyspepsy, Dropsy, and Blue Devils, Sometimes the liver takes a spleenful whim 66 Or out of depth the head begins to swim- For instance, twice round Finsbury Square, To use a fitting phrase, he wound his way. Then comes the rising, with repentance bitter, And all the nerves (and sparrows)—in a twitter, Till settled by the sober Chinese cup: The hands, o'er all, are members that make motions, Which has its swell, too, when it's getting up— And Simpson just was ready to go thro' it, One section of his face as green as grass! In vain each eager wipe, With soap-without-wet-hot or cold—or dry, What could have happened to a tint so ruddy? By way of penalty for being jolly, To have that evergreen stuck in his face, Just like the windows with their Christmas holly. "All claret marks,"-thought he-Tom knew his forte"Are red-this colour CANNOT come from Port!" One thing was plain; with such a face as his, The coachman, flying, dog-like, at his head, Vere ought a feller, now, to go to buy The t'other half, Sir, of that 'ere green cheese?" Meanwhile, good Mrs. Brown Wondered at Mr. S. not coming down, Returned an answer so mysterious That curiosity began to fry; The more, as Betty, who had caught a snatch Reported a most bloody, tied-up head, Got over-night of course "Harm watch, harm catch," From Watchmen in a boxing-match. |