A GARDEN LYRIC GERALDINE AND I Dite, Damasippe, deæque Verum ob consilium donent tonsore. We have loitered and laughed in the flowery croft, Her voice is the dearest voice, and soft To mould her mind, to gaze in her young For ever may roses divinely blow, And wine-dark pansies charm By that prim box path where I felt the glow And the sweep of her silk as she turned and smiled The breeze was in love with the darling Child, She showed me her ferns and woodbine sprays, A mist of blue in the beds, a blaze Of red in the celadon jars: And velvety bees in convolvulus bells, And roses of bountiful Spring. But I said "Though roses and bees have spells, They have thorn, and sting." She showed me ripe peaches behind a net Goldfish a-gape, who lazily met For her crumbs-I grudged them that! A squirrel, some rabbits with long lop ears, And guinea-pigs, tortoise-shell-wee; And I told her that eloquent truth inheres In all we see. Mrs. Smith I lifted her doe by its lops, quoth I, "Even here deep meaning lies, Why have squirrels these ample tails, and why She smiled and said, as she twirled her veil, "For some nice little cause, no doubtIf you lift a guinea-pig up by the tail His eyes drop out!" Frederick Locker-Lampson (1821-1895] MRS. SMITH Heigh-ho! they're wed. The cards are dealt, I've laughed, and fooled, and loved. I've felt- Yon little thatch is where she lives, Yon spire is where she met me;-- LAST year I trod these fields with Di,- Then Di was fair and single; how A blissful swain,-I scorned the song Then breezes blew a boon to men, Then buttercups were bright, and then i The grass was longer. That day I saw, and much esteemed, Inclined to smother: It twitched, and soon untied (for fun) And then the other. I'm told that virgins augur some To grief on Friday: And so did Di,—and then her pride Of course I knelt; with fingers deft Is very stupid!-as I live I'm quite ashamed!-I'm shocked to give For answer I was fain to sink To what we all would say and think "Don't mention such a simple act- I trust that Love will never tease She's happy now as Mrs. Smith— Heigh-ho! Although no moral clings I think that Smith is thought an ass,- She wears balmorals. Frederick Locker-Lampson [1821-1895] THE SKELETON IN THE CUPBOARD THE characters of great and small Come ready made, we can't bespeak one; Their sides are many, too, and all (Except ourselves) have got a weak one. The Skeleton in the Cupboard 1735 Some sanguine people love for life, Some love their hobby till it flings them. How many love a pretty wife For love of the éclat she brings them! ... A little to relieve my mind I've thrown off this disjointed chatter, But more because I'm disinclined To enter on a painful matter: Once I was bashful; I'll allow I've blushed for words untimely spoken; I still am rather shy, and now ... And now the ice is fairly broken. We all have secrets: you have one Which may n't be quite your charming spouse's; We all lock up a Skeleton In some grim chamber of our houses; Familiars who exhaust their days And nights in probing where our smart is, And who, for all their spiteful ways, Are "silent, unassuming Parties." We hug this Phantom we detest, And we are much afflicted mortals. Old Dives fears a pauper fate, So hoarding is his ruling passion:Some gloomy souls anticipate A waistcoat, straiter than the fashion: She childless pines, that lonely wife, And secret tears are bitter shedding; Hector may tremble all his life, And die,-but not of that he's dreading. Ah me, the World! How fast it spins! And we must drain it for our troubles. Mounts up from this poor seething city, A FATHER, infinite in pity. When Beauty smiles, when Sorrow weeps, Its ghastly carnival; but hearken! How dry the rattle of the bones! That sound was not to make you start meant: Frederick Locker-Lampson [1821-1895] A TERRIBLE INFANT I RECOLLECT a nurse called Ann, Came up, and kissed the pretty lass: When I can talk, I'll tell Mamma.” Frederick Locker-Lampson (1821-1895] COMPANIONS A TALE OF A GRANDFATHER I KNOW not of what we pondered Or made pretty pretence to talk, As, her hand within mine, we wandered Toward the pool by the lime-tree walk, While the dew fell in showers from the passion flowers And the blush-rose bent on her stalk. |