Classic Poem

" Why art thou weeping, sister?
Why is thy cheek so pale?
Look up, dear Jane, and tell me
What is it thou dost ail?

" I know thy will is froward,
Thy feelings warm and keen,
And that that Augustus Howard
For weeks has not been seen.

" I know how much you loved him;
But I know thou dost not weep
For him; — for though his passion be,
His purse is noways deep.

" Then tell me why those tear-drops?
What means this woeful mood?
Say, has the tax-collector
Been calling, and been rude?

" Or has that hateful grocer,
The slave! been here to-day?
Of course he had, by morrow's noon,
A heavy bill to pay!

" Come, on thy brother's bosom
Unburden all thy woes;
Look up, look up, sweet sister;
Nay, sob not through thy nose. "

" Oh, John, 'tis not the grocer
For his account, although
How ever he is to be paid,
I really do not know.

" 'Tis not the tax-collector;
Though by his fell command
They've seized our old paternal clock,
And new umbrella-stand!

" Nor that Augustus Howard,
Whom I despise almost, —
But the soot's come down the chimney, John,
And fairly spoiled the roast! "