Inglorious friend! most confident I am
Thy life is one of very little ease;
Albeit men mock thee with their similes
And prate of being "happy as a clam!"
What though thy shell protects thy fragile head
From the sharp bailiffs of the briny sea?
Thy valves are, sure, no safety-valves to thee,
While rakes are free to desecrate thy bed,
And bear thee off—as foemen take their spoil—
Far from thy friends and family to roam;
Forced, like a Hessian, from thy native home,
To meet destruction in a foreign broil!
Though thou art tender, yet thy humble bard
Declares, O clam! thy case is shocking hard!
VENUS OF THE NEEDLE.
WILLIAM ALLINGHAM.
O Maryanne, you pretty girl,
Intent on silky labor,
Of sempstresses the pink and pearl,
Excuse a peeping neighbor!
Those eyes, forever drooping, give
The long brown lashes rarely;
But violets in the shadows live,—
For once unvail them fairly.
Hast thou not lent that flounce enough
Of looks so long and earnest?
Lo, here's more "penetrable stuff,"
To which thou never turnest.
Ye graceful fingers, deftly sped!
How slender, and how nimble!
O might I wind their skeins of thread,
Or but pick up their thimble!
How blest the youth whom love shall bring,
And happy stars embolden,
To change the dome into a ring,
The silver into golden!
Who'll steal some morning to her side
To take her finger's measure,
While Maryanne pretends to chide,
And blushes deep with pleasure.
Who'll watch her sew her wedding-gown,
Well conscious that it IS hers,
Who'll glean a tress, without a frown, With those so ready scissors.