Nothing we ask of the things that please ; Weary are we, and worn, and gray; Lo, for we clutch and we clasp your knees,— Give us -ah! give us--but Yesterday!" "Damosels-Dames, be piteous!" (But the dames rode fast by the roadway trees.) "Hear us, O Knights magnanimous !" (But the knights pricked on in their panoplies.) Nothing they gat or of hope or ease, But only to beat on the breast and say :— "Life we drank to the dregs and lees; Give us-ah! give us-but Yesterday!" Envoy. YOUTH, take heed to the prayer of these! Many there be by the dusty way, Many that cry to the rocks and seas "Give us―ah! give us-but Yesterday ! "POOR MISS TOX.” It was an ancient Shepherdess, The tears she shed for loneliness Would melt the hardest rocks. IN Dickens 'twas "Princess's Place," But here 'tis "Maiden Row," And yet 'tis still the self-same face, The self-same air I know: 'Tis true the name is plainly "Brown," 'Tis true the flowers are "stocks," And yet I'd wager half-a-crown - That you are "poor Miss Tox!" There can't, of course, be more than one; The cases must be rare Of maidens left to nurse alone Dyspepsia and Despair; Ah no; that gown of youthful make Those tresses dark as Nox, Those arching brows,-I can't mistake, You must be "poor Miss Tox!" And then your daily ways:—I know Exactly when you dust The two old candlesticks of Bow And good John Wesley's bust; Exactly as your tea is spread I set my pair of clocks; (You take your morning meal in bed, I fear-my "poor Miss Tox!"). I see you knit, I see you hem, I see you painting flowers, I see you read "Affection's Gem," Exhaustively, for hours. And once-I own 'twas somewhat late I saw you. . comb your locks; Why was not mine Acteon's fate, But still I look and still I see That still the days evoke No youth of artless modesty Impatient for the yoke: For "men may come, and men may go," 'But ne'er a suitor knocks At that green door in "Maiden Row," To ask for "poor Miss Tox!" |