But who to dumb forgetfulness a prey,
Would start to nip with dry and husky throttle?
Whene’er they march along the Devil’s way,
They take his own peculiar seal, the bottle.
Amid the madding crowd that gathers thick,
A moving pandemonium they stray,
And down those much frequented walks of brick
They hold the noisy tenor of their way.
THE EPIGRAM
Here go at last, all yelling to the town,
A band of youths to Judson’s too well known;
Fair science ever met their darkest frown,
And foul intemperance marked them for her own.
Small is their bounty, but “a drink” they chime,
As round the crowded counter many jam;
Each gives to Judson (all he has) a dime,
Each gets from him (’tis all he wants) a dram.
January, 1868.
FIRE EYES
Hast thou on summer’s eve ere marked
The storm on cloud wings soaring high,
And spreading far his pinions black,
Across the blue good-natured sky?
And hast thou seen from ’neath his brow
The lightning’s eye gleam fiercely bright,
As if to pierce a thousand foes
With daggers of his living light?
As flash the lightnings in the skies,
So gleam, when angry, “Fire Eyes.”
Hast thou on autumn eve e’er seen
The sun just nestling on his pillow,
While sapphire clouds were silver-fringed,
As seafoam crests the surging billow?
And hast thou seen the golden gaze
The sun bestows on Nature fair,
That dyes the gorgeous landscape o’er
And almost melts the amber air?
As beams the sun on autumn skies
So smile, when pleased, bright “Fire Eyes.”