Classic Poem

Who's that child upon a chair
At campmeeting making speeches?
Gracious! how mature his air,
Though he wears a baby's breeches!
Don't you know him? That's Dick—
Son of Lawyer Champetry—
Born a speaker in the quick;
What a statesman he will be—
So slick!
Dick.

Who's that boy with eyes like saucers
And ox cherries, coolly stumping?
Like a bull calf, high he tosses
Grown up stumpers, hardly humping:
Don't you know him? Dick, you see,
Of our State the prodigy!
See him turn on them the trick—
While the people roar with glee,
So quick!
Dick.

Who's that man in public station,
Portly, courtly, prosecuting,
Soaring, roaring for the nation,
Now convicting, now non-suiting,
Don't you know him? That's Dick!
O, if Dick could only be
Quiet-minded as trump-winded,
What a counsellor he'd be!
Who'd lick
Dick?

Who's that haggard, pale defendant,
Pleading for his liberty,
Of his eloquence still pendant
Noble pathos in his plea?
Don't you know him? That's Dick.
Poor boy! Precocious he!
Gift of tongues has made him sick,
Now, if ever, serious be!