How I long’d to have thee near me,
Revelling in peace and plenty,
As my staunch and valiant comrade
In a dolce far niente!
Always to remain beside thee
Was the aim of each endeavour;
Everything that gave thee pleasure,
To accomplish sought I ever.
I enjoy’d what thou didst relish,
Neither would I touch the dishes
Thou didst hate, and even smoking
I commenced, to meet thy wishes.
Many a funny Polish story
That thy merriment excited,
In a strange and Jewish accent
To repeat I then delighted.
Yes, then long’d I to approach thee,
Leave my foreign habitation,
And beside thy fortune’s fireplace
Take for evermore my station.
Golden wishes! mere soap bubbles!
Like my life they all have vanish’d;
On the ground I now am lying,
Crush’d for ever, hopeless, banish’d.
Fare ye well, ye golden wishes
Where my darling hopes once centred!
Ah! the blow was far too deadly
That my inmost heart has enter’d.
12. THE ANNIVERSARY.
Not one mass will e’er be chanted,
Not one Hebrew prayer be mutter’d,
When the day I died returneth,—
Nothing will be sung or utter’d.
Yet upon that day, it may be,
If the weather has not chill’d her,
On a visit to Montmartre
With Pauline will go Matilda.