Who said my mother was a Turk, And took me home-and made me work, Who "of all earthly things" would boast, And therefore made me feel my post? Who got in scrapes, an endless score, Till many a bitter bang I bore? My Cousin. Who took me home when mother died, Again with father to reside, Black shoes, clean knives, run far and wide? My Stepmother. Who marred my stealthy urchin' joys, And when I played cried "What a noise!— Girls always hector over boys My Sister. Who used to share in what was mine, Or took it all, did he incline, 'Cause I was eight, and he was nine? My Brother. Who stroked my head, and said “Good lad,” And gave me sixpence, "all he had;' But at the stall the coin was bad? My Godfather. Who, gratis, shared my social glass, Through all this weary world, in brief, Or shared my joy-my sole relief? Myself. THE LARK AND THE ROOK. A FABLE. "Lo! hear the gentle lark !"-SHAKESPEARE NCE on a time-no matter where— To perch upon the ground. Hour after hour, Through ev'ry change of weather hard or soft, In silence now, and now in song, Up, up in cloudland all day long, On weary wing, yet with unceasing flight, It caused, of course, much speculation Who tried to guess the riddle that was in it- The swallows, cock and hen, The wagtail, and the linnet, The yellowhammer, and the finch as well- "Friend, prithee, tell me why You keep this constant hovering so high, A speck against the sky Neglectful of each old familiar feature Of Earth that nursed you in your callow state- "Friend," said the Lark, with melancholy tone, And I was nestled in the furrow yonder! And sweet that thymy down I watch beneath, But Men, vile Men, have spread so thick a scurf I do not like to settle on it!" MORAL. Alas! how Nobles of another race A NOCTURNAL SKETCH. VEN is come; and from the dark Park, hark, And six is sounding from the chime, prime time Or hear Othello's jealous doubt spout out,- Hamlet? Anon Night comes, and with her wings brings things, Now thieves to enter for your cash, smash, crash, And while they're going, whisper low, "No go!" Now puss, while folks are in their beds, treads leads, Now Bulls of Bashan, of a prize size, rise And that she hears-what faith is man's-Ann's banns That upward goes, shows Rose knows those bows' woes! DOMESTIC ASIDES; OR, TRUTH IN PARENTHESES. REALLY take it very kind This visit, Mrs. Skinner! I have not seen you such an age-(The wretch has come to dinner!) "Your daughters, too, what loves of girls What heads for painters' easels! Come here and kiss the infant, dears, (And give it p'rhaps the measles!) "Your charming boys I see are home From Reverend Mr. Russel's; 'Twas very kind to bring them both, (What boots for my new Brussels!) "What! little Clara left at home? Well, now, I call that shabby: I should have loved to kiss her so,(A flabby, dabby babby!) "And Mr. S., I hope he's well; Ah! though he lives so handy, He never now drops in to sup,— (The better for our brandy!) "Come, take a seat-I long to hear About Matilda's marriage; You're come of course to spend the day! (Thank Heav'n, I hear the carriage!) "What, must you go? next time I hope You'll give me longer measure; Nay-I shall see you down the stairs(With most uncommon pleasure!) "Good-bye! good-bye! remember all, JOHN DAY. A PATHETIC BALLAD. "A Day after the Fair."-OLD PROVERB. Something like the JOHN DAY he was the biggest man Of all the coachman-kind, read Food With back too broad to be conceived |