The Pen and the Album
" I AM Miss Catherine's book, " the Album speaks;
" I've lain among your tomes these many weeks;
I'm tired of their old coats and yellow cheeks.
" Quick, Pen! and write a line with a good grace:
Come! draw me off a funny little face;
And, prithee, send me back to Chesham Place. "
PEN .
" I am my master's faithful old Gold Pen;
I've served him three long years, and drawn since then
Thousands of funny women and droll men
" O Album! could I tell you all his ways
And thoughts, since I am his, these thousand days,
Lord, how your pretty pages I'd amaze! "
ALBUM .
" His ways? his thoughts? Just whisper me a few;
Tell me a curious anecdote or two,
And write 'em quickly off, good Mordan, do! "
PEN .
" Since he my faithful service did engage
To follow him through his queer pilgrimage,
I've drawn and written many a line and page.
" Caricatures I scribbled have, and rhymes,
And dinner-cards, and picture pantomimes,
And merry little children's books at times.
" I've writ the foolish fancy of his brain;
The aimless jest that, striking, hath caused pain;
The idle word that he'd wish back again.
*****
" I've helped him to pen many a line for bread;
To joke, with sorrow aching in his head;
And make your laughter when his own heart bled.
" I've spoke with men of all degree and sort —
Peers of the land, and ladies of the Court;
Oh, but I've chronicled a deal of sport!
" Feasts that were ate a thousand days ago,
Biddings to wine that long hath ceased to flow,
Gay meetings with good fellows long laid low;
" Summons to bridal, banquet, burial, ball,
Tradesman's polite reminders of his small
Account due Christmas last — I've answer'd all.
" Poor Diddler's tenth petition for a half.
Guinea; Miss Bunyan's for an autograph;
So I refuse, accept, lament, or laugh,
" Condole, congratulate, invite, praise, scoff,
Day after day still dipping in my trough,
And scribbling pages after pages off.
" Day after day the labour's to be done,
And sure as come the postman and the sun,
The indefatigable ink must run.
*****
" Go back, my pretty little gilded tome,
To a fair mistress and a pleasant home,
Where soft hearts greet us whensoe'er we come!
" Dear friendly eyes, with constant kindness lit,
However rude my verse, or poor my wit,
Or sad or gay my mood, you welcome it.
" Kind lady! till my last of lines is penn'd,
My master's love, grief, laughter, at an end,
Whene'er I write your name, may I write friend!
" Not all are so that were so in past years;
Voices, familiar once, no more he hears;
Names, often writ, are blotted out in tears
" So be it: — joys will end and tears will dry —
Album! my master bids me wish good-bye,
He'll send you to your mistress presently
" And thus with thankful heart he closes you:
Blessing the happy hour when a friend he knew
So gentle, and so generous, and so true.
" Nor pass the words as idle phrases by;
Stranger! I never writ a flattery,
Nor sign'd the page that register'd a lie. "
" I've lain among your tomes these many weeks;
I'm tired of their old coats and yellow cheeks.
" Quick, Pen! and write a line with a good grace:
Come! draw me off a funny little face;
And, prithee, send me back to Chesham Place. "
PEN .
" I am my master's faithful old Gold Pen;
I've served him three long years, and drawn since then
Thousands of funny women and droll men
" O Album! could I tell you all his ways
And thoughts, since I am his, these thousand days,
Lord, how your pretty pages I'd amaze! "
ALBUM .
" His ways? his thoughts? Just whisper me a few;
Tell me a curious anecdote or two,
And write 'em quickly off, good Mordan, do! "
PEN .
" Since he my faithful service did engage
To follow him through his queer pilgrimage,
I've drawn and written many a line and page.
" Caricatures I scribbled have, and rhymes,
And dinner-cards, and picture pantomimes,
And merry little children's books at times.
" I've writ the foolish fancy of his brain;
The aimless jest that, striking, hath caused pain;
The idle word that he'd wish back again.
*****
" I've helped him to pen many a line for bread;
To joke, with sorrow aching in his head;
And make your laughter when his own heart bled.
" I've spoke with men of all degree and sort —
Peers of the land, and ladies of the Court;
Oh, but I've chronicled a deal of sport!
" Feasts that were ate a thousand days ago,
Biddings to wine that long hath ceased to flow,
Gay meetings with good fellows long laid low;
" Summons to bridal, banquet, burial, ball,
Tradesman's polite reminders of his small
Account due Christmas last — I've answer'd all.
" Poor Diddler's tenth petition for a half.
Guinea; Miss Bunyan's for an autograph;
So I refuse, accept, lament, or laugh,
" Condole, congratulate, invite, praise, scoff,
Day after day still dipping in my trough,
And scribbling pages after pages off.
" Day after day the labour's to be done,
And sure as come the postman and the sun,
The indefatigable ink must run.
*****
" Go back, my pretty little gilded tome,
To a fair mistress and a pleasant home,
Where soft hearts greet us whensoe'er we come!
" Dear friendly eyes, with constant kindness lit,
However rude my verse, or poor my wit,
Or sad or gay my mood, you welcome it.
" Kind lady! till my last of lines is penn'd,
My master's love, grief, laughter, at an end,
Whene'er I write your name, may I write friend!
" Not all are so that were so in past years;
Voices, familiar once, no more he hears;
Names, often writ, are blotted out in tears
" So be it: — joys will end and tears will dry —
Album! my master bids me wish good-bye,
He'll send you to your mistress presently
" And thus with thankful heart he closes you:
Blessing the happy hour when a friend he knew
So gentle, and so generous, and so true.
" Nor pass the words as idle phrases by;
Stranger! I never writ a flattery,
Nor sign'd the page that register'd a lie. "
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