Chum and I had heard enough
To put us both in quite a huff,
So just to stop her noisome stuff
I sprang and seized her by the collar.
George jumped up and grabbed the poker,
Shouted, “Edwin, try to choke her!
We’ll stop her mouth, a darned old croaker,
Squeeze her tight and make her ‘holloa.’”
To the fire we held her near,
Still she showed no signs of fear.
“Shall the red coals be your bier?”
She shook her leaves and fluttered, “No.”
Now my face with anger flushes,
Covered first with scarlet blushes,
I cried, “Will you again e’er ‘rush’ us?”
Quoth Miss Annie, “Evermore.”
“Book or fiend,” I cried, up starting,
“Be that word our sign of parting.”
Then I, in my vengeance darting,
Hurled her in the embers red.
She slightly quivered, slowly burned;
From the sickening sight I turned,
Yet from her this lesson learned,
Prepare before you go to bed.
LINES TO COUSINS C. AND E.
ON THE BIRTH OF THEIR LITTLE DAUGHTER
The marriage over, from the train
Of watching seraphs, one long strain
Of gratulation broke.
And then were still the rustling wings,
And fingers hushed the throbbing strings,
While thus an angel spoke:
“Who’ll go to earth to bless this pair
With angel child, beneath their care
Be trained for bliss or woe?”
He ceased, and from the throng sprang three,
Faith, Love, and spotless Purity.
These knelt, and said “We’ll go.”
Dear cousins, to you these are sent,
Three spirits in one being blent.
It is a jewel rare.
Oh! keep her pure as when first given,
Guide her faith from Earth to Heaven,
Guard her love with care.
May, 1867.