THE BALLAD OF DEPARTED PIPPINS.
(Some Way after Villon and Rossetti.)
Tell me, now, where has it departed,
That fine old apple, the Ribstone Pippin,
The rosy-coated, and juicy-hearted,
I loved, when a "nipper," my teeth to slip in?
Where is the Russet we boys thought rippin'?
(Though its sharpness sometimes started the tears?)
Oh! such-like often I've spent my "tip" in—
But where are the apples of earlier years?
Where's the King Pippin, the sun-brown one?
And where is the Catshead, light Spring green?
(Which gave, while eating, such glorious fun,
If—after munching—some dule and teen)?
And where is the Golden Knob, whose sheen
Would draw the wasps all about our ears?
(Sometimes in our mouths, if they were not seen)—
But where are the apples of earlier years?
White watery things from the land of the Yankee,
And sugary shams from the Austral seas,
They sell us—at sixpence per pound! No, thankee!
I have no palate for frauds like these.
There's not an apple that now could please
Poor Eve so much as to waken fears.
Ah, the luscious Pippins youth crunched at ease!
But where are the apples of earlier years?
Nay, never ask if your fruiterer's heard
Of "a decent pippin" (the huckster sneers!)
Except with this for, an overword—
But where are the apples of earlier years?
Rather Mixed.—In the sale of wines at Christie's last week, Lot 136 is described as "3 dozen of sherry, 1842, been to West Indies, more or less." Now, why this mystery? Why not make a clean breast of it? Is it meant that the sherry called in at only one or two of the Indies? or did it only set half way on the voyage to the group? We should learn more or be told less.
