Page:The New Monthly Magazine - Volume 099.djvu/92

80 The mossy marbles rest

On the lips that he has prest

In their bloom,

And the names he loved to hear

Have been carved for many a year

On the tomb.

My grandmamma has said,—

Poor old lady, she is dead

Long ago,—

That he had a Roman nose,

And his cheek was like a rose

In the snow.

But now his nose is thin, And it rests upon his chin

Like a staff,

And a crook is in his back,

And a melancholy crack

In his laugh.

I know it is a sin

For me to sit and grin

At him here;

But the old three-cornered hat,

And the breeches, and all that,

Are so queer!

And if I should live to be

The last leaf upon the tree

In the spring,—

Let them smile, as I do now,

At the old forsaken bough

Where I cling.

These admirable verses—set in so aptly framed a metre too—would alone suffice to make a reputation. In a like spirit, dashed with a few drops of the Thackeray essence, are the lines headed "Questions and Answers,"—among the queries and responses being these sarcastic sentimentalisms:

In such alliance of the humorous and fanciful lies a main charm in this writer's productions. Fancy he has in abundance, as he proves on all occasions, grave and gay. Sometimes, indeed, he indulges in similes that may be thought rather curious than felicitous: as where he speaks of the "half-built tower," which, thanks to Howe's artillery,