The day I was married, my dear Editor, I was greeted by a valued crony of mine with the following Jew desperate, as Mrs. Malaprop might call a jeu d'esprit. The occasion which gave this trifle birth having now been some years a matter of history, I am disposed to lend it to your good readers for a month, and beg them to be very careful of it, as it is really one of the neatest things of the kind I or they have ever seen. It is by a poet of no low order of genius, I can assure you, whose fault alone it is that his name, albeit not insignificant, is not yet higher on the rolls of poetic fame. It has never been in print.
J. F. O.
| Part I.—LOVE. |
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A glance,—a thought,—a blow,—
It stings him to the core.
A question—will it lay him low?
Or will time heal it o'er?
He kindles at the name,—
He sits, and thinks apart;
Time blows and blows it to a flame,—
Burning within his heart.
He loves it though it burns,
And nurses it with care:
He feeds the blissful pain, by turns,
With hope, and with despair! |
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| Part II.—COURTSHIP. |
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Sonnets and serenades,
Sighs, glances, tears and vows,
Gifts, tokens, souvenirs, parades,
And courtesies and bows.
A purpose, and a prayer:
The stars are in the sky,—
He wonders how e'en hope should dare
To let him aim so high!
Still hope allures and flatters,
And doubt just makes him bold:
And so, with passion all in tatters,
The trembling tale is told!
Apologies and blushes,
Soft looks, averted eyes,
Each heart into the other rushes,
Each yields, and wins, a prize. |
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| Part III.—MARRIAGE. |
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A gathering of fond friends,—
Brief, solemn words, and prayer,—
A trembling to the fingers' ends,
As hand in hand they swear.
Sweet cake, sweet wine, sweet kisses,—
And so the deed is done:
Now for life's woes and blisses,—
The wedded two are one.
And down the shining stream
They launch their buoyant skiff,
Bless'd, if they may but trust Hope's dream,—
But ah! Truth echoes—If! |
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| THE SEQUEL.—IF. |
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If health be firm,—if friends be true,—
If self be well controlled,—
If tastes be pure,—if wants be few,—
And not too often told,—
If reason always rule the heart,—
And passions own its sway,—
If love for aye to life impart
The zest it does to day,—
If Providence with parent care
Mete out the varying lot,—
While meek Contentment bows to share
The palace or the cot,—
And oh! if Faith, sublime and clear,
The spirit upward guide,—
Then bless'd indeed, and bless'd fore'er,
The Bridegroom, and the Bride! |
WILLIAM CUTTER.