Vainly I strove the wholesome parts to cherish;
But nought remained of what is now so dear:—
Only with life shall the remembrance perish,
How bad potatoes have turned out this year!
THE RIVER.
BY COVENTRY PATMORE.
It is a venerable pier,
Though anything but sound;
So old, the Rainbow shatters it,
To Hungerford when bound;
And over all the mud expanse