160

AN EXCUSE FOR EVERYTHING.

I have grown, I confess it, a slave to the fair—
Led astray by the first pretty face;

And, if Love be indeed a delusion—a snare,—
You may pity, not envy, my case.

If I worship a score of the sex at a time,
An excuse can be readily seen;

I will say to the censor who counts it a crime,
Stop a moment!-I'm only eighteen.

I believe, and I fancy that others believe,
To be rich is in truth to be great.

With a thousand a year for my life, I conceive
I could live in comparative state.

The delights of a fortune I grasp at a glance,
And the joys that a fortune may mean.
I shall make one by fifty, or sixty, perchance;
But I've told you-I'm only eighteen.

When my style has been strengthened and polished

a bit,

I will burst on the wondering world

With a brain full of eloquence, wisdom, and wit,

And the banner of genius unfurled.

I'm simply delaying on purpose to find

How my talent and sympathy lean.

Only stop till I've thoroughly made up my mind— There's no hurry-I'm only eighteen.

"SHOP!"

HATEVER you sell, Sir-whatever you

trade in

I hope I may mildly but firmly suggest That, as well as the time all your profits are made in, Enough is allowed you for natural rest.

No doubt the excitements of Commerce are thrilling,
'Tis hard from such altitudes ever to drop ;-
But, at least for to-night, Sir-however unwilling-
Do put up your shutters and shut up your shop.

You see, Sir, I too am a tradesman and brother,
As greedy for gain as the best of my crew ;-
Only I offer one thing, and you sell another,
And neither imagines he's worst of the two.
Of course there is nothing of rivalry in it,

Where each has a tree and inhabits the top;—
Still, by way of a novelty,-just for a minute-

Pray put up your shutters and shut up your shop.

Just fancy the state of affairs at a meeting
Of traders in ev'ry conceivable trade;
One and all in a frenzy, with fury repeating

The fact that their goods were the best ever made.
A picture so ghastly should act as a warning.—
This mercantile maundering try, Sir, to stop;
And, until you get ready for work in the morning,

Please put up your shutters and shut up your shop.

25

STRICTLY PRACTICAL.

is easy, no doubt, in a ballad or novel

To write about money as rubbish or dust; It is easy to picture young Love in a hovel Subsisting on water combined with a crust. Common sense gives a different view to the question, Let songster or novelist write as he may; And a palace, if bards will excuse the suggestion, Is not an unpleasant abode in its way.

To be caged in a cottage and starve like a Stoic,
To plod for a pittance of little or less,
May be highly romantic and rather heroic,

But cannot precisely be pleasant, I guess.
I declare I could love in as fervid a fashion
If lodged in the building by Buckingham Gate;
With a view of the Park to intensify passion,
And food of the best on the richest of plate.

164

STRICTLY PRACTICAL.

So I mildly but firmly present my denial

To novels and songs upon Indigent Love;
And I promise hereby, if you'll grant me the trial,
To revel in riches and coo like a dove.

But my life in the future (though married and wealthy)

Depends very much on the bride that I win;Make me clever, good-looking, good-natured, and healthy,

And bring me a Duchess and let me begin.