I yearn and I burn for that cane-bottom’d chair.
To think I have seen him as yet but in dreams,
And that he should sit between Mary and Jeames!
What rapture with Albert a prayer-book to share,
Had I been as close to that cane-bottom’d chair!
O sexton, how can you compel me to pine
For a seat that can never be chaste in design?
And yet could I win you, no Chippendale rare
Should wean my heart from you, my cane-bottom’d chair!
I’d work you a cushion; I’d dust you myself—