TO A RAILWAY FOOT-WARMER.
At first I loved thee—thou wast warm,—
The porter called thee "'ot," nay, "bilin.'"
I tipped him as thy welcome form
He carried, with a grateful smile, in.
Alas! thou art a faithless friend,
Thy warmth was but dissimulation;
Thy tepid glow is at an end,
And I am nowhere near my station!