Short Poems

To my ninth decad I have tottered on,
And no soft arm bends now my steps to steady;
She, who once led me where she would, is gone,
So when he calls me, Death shall find me ready.

To his book's end this last line he'd have placed:
Jocund his muse was, but his life was chaste.

'Tis still observ'd, that Fame ne'er sings
The order, but the sum of things.

To live and not to be Thine Own,
Like Springtime is when birds are flown;
Or liberty in prison bars,
Or evening skies without the stars;
Like diamonds that are lustreless,
Or rest when there's no weariness;
Like lovely flowers that have no scent,
Or music when the sound is spent.

I with a Housemaid once was curst
Whose name when shortened makes my first;
She an ill natured Jade was reckoned
And in the house oft raised my second
My whole stands high in lists of fame
Exalting e'en great Chatham's name.

By my 1 st you may travel with safety & speed
Though many dislike the conveyance indeed.
My 2 d no woman can well be
My whole takes a change several times in each year
Hot, & cold, wet & dry, benignant severe
What am I, fair Lady, pray tell me

To-day as I went out to play
I saw a brown frog in the way,
I know that frogs are smooth and green,
But this was brown — what could it mean?
I asked a lady in the road;
She said it was a spotted toad!

In my first that he may not be tardy & late
My second to do & make nobody wait
A curate oft crosses the plain
But if to my whole he sh d ever advance
To me it appears an improbable chance
That he'll ever do either again.

To Archæanassa, on whose furrow'd brow
Love sits in triumph, I my service vow.
If her declining graces shine so bright,
What flames felt you who saw her noon of light?

Camilla, good humoured, & merry, & small
For a Husband was at her last stake;
And having in vain danced at many a Ball
Is now happy to jump at a Wake.