So he painted the sea as it looked the day That Aphroditè arose from its spray; And it broke, as she gazed on its face the while, Into its countless-dimpled smile. "What a poky, stupid picture!" said she: "I don't believe he can paint the sea!"
Then he painted a raging, tossing sea, Storming, with fierce and sudden shock, A towering, mighty fastness-rock;— In its sides, above those leaping crests, The thronging sea-birds built their nests. "What a disagreeable daub!" said she: "Why, it isn't anything like the sea!"
Then he painted a stretch of hot brown sand, With a big hotel on either hand, And a handsome pavilion for the band;— Not a sign of water to be seen, Except one faint little streak of green. "What a perfectly exquisite picture!" said she: "It's the very image of the sea!"
THE PROUD MISS MACBRIDE. A LEGEND OF GOTHAM.
O, terribly proud was Miss MacBride, The very personification of pride, As she minced along in fashion's tide, Adown Broadway—on the proper side— When the golden sun was setting; There was pride in the head she carried so high, Pride in her lip, and pride in her eye, And a world of pride in the very sigh That her stately bosom was fretting!
O, terribly proud was Miss MacBride, Proud of her beauty, and proud of her pride, And proud of fifty matters beside— That wouldn't have borne dissection; Proud of her wit, and proud of her walk, Proud of her teeth, and proud of her talk, Proud of "knowing cheese from chalk," On a very slight inspection!
Proud abroad, and proud at home, Proud wherever she chanced to come— When she was glad, and when she was glum; Proud as the head of a Saracen Over the door of a tippling-shop!— Proud as a duchess, proud as a fop, "Proud as a boy with a brand-new top," Proud beyond comparison!
It seems a singular thing to say, But her very senses led her astray Respecting all humility; In sooth, her dull auricular drum Could find in humble only a "hum," And heard no sound of "gentle" come, In talking about gentility.
What lowly meant she didn't know, For she always avoided "everything low," With care the most punctilious; And, queerer still, the audible sound Of "super-silly" she never had found In the adjective supercilious!