I’m a feelin’ mighty lonesome, as I look aroun’ to-day,
    For I see th’ change that’s taken place since then. 
  All th’ hills is brown and faded, for th’ woods is cleared away;
    You an’ me has changed from ragged boys to men;
  You are livin’ in th’ city that we ust to dream about;
    I am still a dwellin’ here upon the place,
  But my form is bent an’ feeble, which was once so straight and
          stout,
    An’ there’s most a thousand wrinkles on my face. 
  You have made a mint of money; I, perhaps have been your match,
  But we both enjoyed life better in that ol’ tobacker patch.

S.Q.  LAPIUS.

MAECENAS BIDS HIS FRIEND TO DINE.

  I beg you come to-night and dine. 
  A welcome waits you, and sound wine,—­
  The Roederer chilly to a charm,
  As Juno’s breath the claret warm,
  The sherry of an ancient brand. 
  No Persian pomp, you understand,—­
  A soup, a fish, two meats, and then
  A salad fit for aldermen
  (When aldermen, alas the days! 
  Were really worth their mayonnaise);
  A dish of grapes whose clusters won
  Their bronze in Carolinian sun;
  Next, cheese—­for you the Neufchatel,
  A bit of Cheshire likes me well;
  Cafe au lait or coffee black,
  With Kirsch or Kuemmel or cognac
  (The German band in Irving Place
  By this time purple in the face);
  Cigars and pipes.  These being through,
  Friends shall drop in, a very few—­
  Shakespeare and Milton, and no more. 
  When these are guests I bolt the door,
  With “Not at home” to any one
  Excepting Alfred Tennyson.

ANON.

TO MY MEERSCHAUM.

There’s a charm in the sun-crested hills,
In the quivering light of a star,
In the flash of a silvery rill,
Yet to me thou art lovelier far,
My Meerschaum!

There’s a love in her witching dark eye,
There’s a love in her tresses at play,
Yet her love would be worth not a sigh,
If from thee she could lure me away,
My Meerschaum!

Let revellers sing of their wine,
As they toss it in ecstasy down,
But the bowl I call for is thine,
With its deepening amber and brown,
My Meerschaum!

For when trouble would bid me despair,
I call for a flagon of beer,
And puff a defiance to care,
Till sorrows in smoke disappear,
My Meerschaum!

Though mid pleasures unnumbered I whirl,
Though I traverse the billowy sea,
Yet the waving and beautiful curl
Of thy smoke’s ever dearer to me,
My Meerschaum!

P.D.R.

OLD PIPE OF MINE.

Companion of my lonely hours,
Full many a time ’twixt night and morn
Thy muse hath roamed through poesy’s bowers
Upon thy fragrant pinions borne. 
Let others seek the bliss that reigns
In homage paid at beauty’s shrine,
We envy not such foolish gains,
In sweet content, old pipe of mine.