Not by deeds that win the crowd's applauses, Canst thou win and wear the immortal crown. Daily struggling, though unloved and lonely, Dost thou revel in the rosy morning, When all nature hails the lord of light, Other hands may grasp the field and forest, Thou art wealthier-all the world is thine. Yet if through earth's wide domains thou rovest, Not those fair fields, but thyself thou lovest, Nature wears the color of the spirit; Sweetly to her worshiper she sings; All the glow, the grace she doth inherit, Round her trusting child she fondly flings. HARRIET WINSLOW SEWALL. Nothing to Tear. MISS FLORA M'FLIMSEY, of Madison Square, And her father assures me, each time she was there, (Not the lady whose name is so famous in history, At all honrs of the day, and in all sorts of weather, For bonnets, mantillas, capes, collars, and shawls; In short, for all things that could ever be thought of, From ten-thousand-franc robes to twenty-sous frills; In all quarters of Paris, and to every store, While M'Flimsey in vain stormed, scolded, and swore, They footed the streets, and he footed the bills! The last trip, their goods shipped by the steamer Argo, Sufficient to fill the largest sized chest, Of muslins, embroideries, worked under-clothes, For an actual belle and a possible bride; But the miracle ceased when she turned inside out, And the truth came to light, and the dry-goods beside; Which, in spite of Collector and Custom-House sentry, Had entered the port without any entry. And yet, though scarce three months have passed since the day This merchandise went, on twelve carts, up Broadway, This same Miss M'Flimsey, of Madison Square, The last time we met was in utter despair, NOTHING TO WEAR! Now, as this is a true ditty, I do not assert-this, you know, is between us— Like Powers' Greek Slave, or the Medici Venus; I should mention just here, that out of Miss Flora's I had just been selected as he who should throw all On myself, after twenty or thirty rejections, Of those fossil remains which she called her "affections," Not by moonbeam or starbeam, by fountain or grove, And flirt when I like-now, stop, do n't you speak— And you must not come here more than twice in the week, Or talk to me either at party or ball, But always be ready to come when I call; So do n't prose to me about duty and stuff, If we do n't break this off, there will be time enough For that sort of thing; but the bargain must be That, as long as I choose, I am perfectly free,— Which is binding on you, but not binding on me." Well, having thus wooed Miss M'Flimsey and gained her, At least in the property, and the best right To appear as its escort by day and by night; And it being the week of the Stuckup's grand ball,— I considered it only my duty to call, I found her as ladies are apt to be found, When the time intervening between the first sound Of the bell and the visitor's entry is shorter She turned as I entered,-" Why, Harry, you sinner, I thought that you went to the Flashers' to dinner! "So I did," I replied, "but the dinner is swallowed, And digested, I trust, for 't is now nine and more, So being relieved from that duty, I followed Inclination, which led me, you see, to your door; And now will your ladyship so condescend As just to inform me if you intend Your beauty, and graces, and presence to lend (All of which, when I own, I hope no one will borrow) To the Stuckups, whose party, you know, is to-morrow?” The fair Flora looked up, with a pitiful air, And answered quite promptly, "Why, Harry, mon cher, Wear the dress you have on, and you 'll be by far, On the Stuckup horizon-" I stopped, for her eye, Of scorn and amazement. She made no reply, But gave a slight turn to the end of her nose, (That pure Grecian feature,) as much to say, "How absurd that any sane man should suppose That a lady would go to a ball in the clothes, No matter how fine, that she wears every day!" So I ventured again: "Wear your crimson brocade;" (Second turn up of nose)—“That 's too dark by a shade." 'Your blue silk "—"That 's too heavy." "Your pink""That's too light." "Wear tulle over satin "—"I can't endure white." |