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Ide steadfast level that leben werd fro
Believe me stile, as I have ever been
cruce the with that all.
Fnce and by blood redeemed but but by cruced;
POEMS OF TEMPERANCE AND LABOR.
YE who would have your features florid,
Adopt this plan,
MAY the Babylonish curse
Straight confound my stammering verse,
(Still the phrase is wide or scant),
Half my love, or half my hate;
Sooty retainer to the vine!
And, for thy pernicious sake,
Than reclaiméd lovers take
'Gainst women! Thou thy siege dost lay Much, too, in the female way,
While thou suck'st the laboring breath
Faster than kisses, or than death.
Thou in such a cloud dost bind us
That our worst foes cannot find us,
And ill fortune, that would thwart us,
Shoots at rovers, shooting at us;
While each man, through thy heightening steam, Does like a smoking Etna seem;
And all about us does express
(Fancy and wit in richest dress) A Sicilian fruitfulness.
Thou through such a mist dost show us That our best friends do not know us, And, for those allowed features Due to reasonable creatures, Liken'st us to fell chimeras, Monsters, that who see us, fear us; Worse than Cerberus or Geryon, Or, who first loved a cloud, Ixion.
Bacchus we know, and we allow
As the false Egyptian spell
Brother of Bacchus, later born!
Or judge of thee meant: only thou
Scent to match thy rich perfume
Stinkingest of the stinking kind! Filth of the mouth and fog of the mind! Africa, that brags her foyson, Breeds no such prodigious poison ! Henbane, nightshade, both together, Hemlock, aconite
Plant divine, of rarest virtue !
Irony all, and feigned abuse,
Or, as men, constrained to part With what's nearest to their heart, While their sorrow's at the height Lose discrimination quite, And their hasty wrath let fall, To appease their frantic gall, On the darling thing, whatever, Whence they feel it death to sever, Though it be, as they, perforce, Guiltless of the sad divorce.
For I must (nor let it grieve thee, Friendliest of plants, that I must) leave thee. For thy sake, tobacco, I
Would do anything but die,
And but seek to extend my days
A king's consort is a queen
And the suburbs of thy graces;
And in thy borders take delight, An unconquered Canaanite.
GO, FEEL WHAT I HAVE FELT.
[By a young lady who was told that she was a monomaniac in her hatred of alcoholic liquors.]
Go, feel what I have felt,
Go, bear what I have borne ;
Go, weep as I have wept
O'er a loved father's fall;
Go to my mother's side,
And her crushed spirit cheer; Thine own deep anguish hide, Wipe from her cheek the tear; Mark her dimmed eye, her furrowed brow, The gray that streaks her dark hair now, The toil-worn frame, the trembling limb, And trace the ruin back to him Whose plighted faith, in early youth, Promised eternal love and truth, But who, forsworn, hath yielded up This promise to the deadly cup, And led her down from love and light, From all that made her pathway bright,
We are two travellers, Roger and I.
Five years we've tramped through wind and weather,
And slept out-doors when nights were cold,
And ate and drank - and starved together.
We've learned what comfort is, I tell you!
A bed on the floor, a bit of rosin,
(This out-door business is bad for the strings), Then a few nice buckwheats hot from the griddle, And Roger and I set up for kings!
Well, something hot, then, we won't quarrel. He's thirsty too, see him nod his head?
What a pity, sir, that dogs can't talk! He understands every word that's said, And he knows good milk from water-and-chalk. The truth is, sir, now I reflect,
I've been so sadly given to grog,
I wonder I've not lost the respect
He'll follow while he has eyes in his sockets.