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And that great German, Vander Trunk,
And that great talker, Miss Apreece ;
Oh Peace! so dear to poets' quills
They're just beginning their quadrilles
Oh Peace ! our greatest renovator ;
I wonder where I put my waiter
Oh Peace ! — but here my Ode I'll cease ;
I have no peace to write of Peace.

A FEW LINES ON COMPLETING FORTY-SEVEN.

WHEN I reflect with serious sense,
While
years

and

years run on, How soon I may be summoned hence

There's cook a-calling John.

Our lives are built so frail and poor,

On sand and not on rocks,
We're hourly standing at Death's door-

There's some one double-knocks.

All human days have settled terms,

Our fates we cannot force ;
This flesh of mine will feed the worms

They ’re come to lunch of course.

And when my body 's turned to clay,

And dear friends hear my knell,

O let them give a sigh and say

I hear the upstairs bell.

TO MARY HOUSEMAID.

ON VALENTINE'S DAY.

MARY, you know I've no love-nonsense,

And, though I pen on such a day,
I don't mean flirting, on my conscience,

Or writing in the courting way.

Though Beauty hasn't formed your feature,

It saves you, perhaps, from being vain, And many a poor unhappy creature

May wish that she was half as plain.

Your virtues would not rise an inch,

Although your shape was two foot taller, And wisely you let others pinch

Great waists and feet to make them smaller.

You never try to spare your

hands From getting red by household duty But, doing all that it commands,

Their coarseness is a moral beauty.

Let Susan flourish her fair arms

And at your odd legs sneer and scoff, But let her laugh, for you have charms

That nobody knows nothing of.

PAIN IN A PLEASURE BOAT.

A SEA ECLOGUE.

“I apprehend you!” -- SCHOOL OF REFORM.

BOATMAN. Shove off there! — ship the rudder, Bill — cast

off! she's under way!

MRS. F.

She's under what? — I hope she's not ! good

gracious, what a spray !

BOATMAN.

Run out the jib, and rig the boom! keep clear of

those two brigs !

MRS. F.

I hope they don't intend some joke by running of

their rigs!

BOATMAN.

Bill, shift them bags of ballast aft

- she's rather

out of trim !

MRS. F. Great bags of stones! they're pretty things to help

a boat to swim !

BOATMAN. The wind is fresh - if she don't scud, it's not the

breeze's fault !

MRS. F. Wind fresh, indeed, I never felt the air so full of salt !

BOATMAN. That schooner, Bill, harn't left the roads, with

oranges and nuts!

MRS. F. If seas have roads, they ’re very rough — I never

felt such ruts!

BOATMAN. It’s neap, ye see, she's heavy lade, and could n't pass

the bar.

MRS. F. The bar! what, roads with turnpikes too ? I won

der where they are !

BOATMAN. Ho! Brig ahoy! hard up! hard up! that lubber MRS. F. Yes, yes,— hard up upon a rock! I know some danger 's near!

cannot steer!

[ing like a bull ! Lord, there's a wave! it's coming in ! and roar

BOATMAN. Nothing, Ma'am, but a little slop! go large, Bill!

keep her full!

MRS. F. What, keep her full! what daring work ! when full, she must go

down!

BOATMAN. Why, Bill, it lulls ! ease off a bit — it's coming

off the town! Steady your helm! we'll clear the Pint! lay

right for yonder pink !

MRS. F. Be steady - well, I hope they can! but they've

got a pint of drink !

BOATMAN. Bill, give that sheet another haul — she 'll fetch it up

this reach.

Mrs. F. I'm getting rather pale, I know, and they see it

by that speech!

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