Short Poems

Though on the wings of Thought I distance
The star-vault's pallid bound,
'Tis Love must fill my heart's insistence
With heaven on earthly ground.

In Craven-street, Strand, ten attorneys find place,
And ten dark coal-barges are moor'd at its base.
Fly, Honesty, fly! seek some safer retreat;
For there's craft in the river, and craft in the street.

I venture this advice to U.;
On entering O. P., mind your Q;
Strive to X. L.; or men of spirit
Will quickly W. in merit.
If these my hints are rightly prized,
You'll on your shoulders keep A. Y. Z.

Within this monumental bed
Apollo's favourite rests his head:
Ye Muses, cease your grieving.
A son the father's loss supplies,
Be comforted, though Colman dies,
His “Heir at Law” is living.

Little did my mother think
That day she cradled me,
What land I was to travel in,
Or what death I should dee,
Oh, foolish thee.

I' M sitting again 'neath the old elm - tree's shade,
And viewing the fields where in childhood I strayed;
The breeze fans my cheek, and the birds go and come,
While I listen, entranced, to the bee's soothing hum.
Hum, hum—sweet, sweet hum!
Tho' it ever so humble bee—
—!!—!!!He's stung me I vum!

Oh , dear! this gout and rheumatiz,
I fear I shall go wild!
But though I am a bachelor,
And have no chick nor child,
I know that when I am no more—
Let folks say what they please—
Although I have no kith nor kin,
I'll have my leg - at - ees.

With passions unruffled, untainted by pride,
By reason my life let me square.
The wants of my nature are cheaply supplied,
And the rest are but folly and care.
How vainly through infinite trouble and strife,
The many their labours employ,
Since all that is truly delightful in life,
Is what all if they please may enjoy.

A humerous fellow in a Tavern late,
Being drunk and valiant, gets a broken pate;
The Surgeon with his instruments, and skill,
Searches his scull deeper, and deeper still,
To feel his brains, and tries if those were sound,
And as he keeps ado about the wound,
The fellow cryes, Good Surgeon spare the pains;
When I began this brawle, I had no brains.

My Dear Rosania, sometimes be so kind,
To think upon the friend thou leav'st behind;
And wish thee here, to make my Joys compleat,
Or else me there, to share thy blest retreat
But to the heart which for thy Loss doth mourn,
The kindest thought is that of quick return.