My little friend, so small and neat,
Whom years ago I used to meet
In Pall Mall daily;
How cheerily you tripped away
To work, it might have been to play,
You tripped so gaily.
And Time trips too. This moral means
You then were midway in the teens
That I was crowning;
We never spoke, but when I smiled
At morn or eve, I know, dear Child,
You were not frowning.
Each morning when we met, I think
Some sentiment did us two link—
Nor joy, nor sorrow;
And then at eve, experience-taught,
Our hearts returned upon the thought,—
We meet to-morrow!
And you were poor; and how?—and why?
How kind to come! it was for my
Especial grace meant!
Had you a chamber near the stars,
A bird,—some treasured plants in jars,
About your casement?
I often wander up and down,
When morning bathes the silent town
In golden glory:
Perchance, unwittingly, I've heard
Your thrilling-toned canary-bird
From some third story.
I've seen great changes since we met;—
A patient little seamstress yet,
With small means striving,
Have you a Lilliputian spouse?
And do you dwell in some doll's house?
—Is baby thriving?
Can bloom like thine—my heart grows chill—
Have sought that bourne unwelcome still
To bosom smarting?
The most forlorn—what worms we are!—
Would wish to finish this cigar
Before departing.
Sometimes I to Pall Mall repair,
And see the damsels passing there;
But if I try to
Obtain one glance, they look discreet,
As though they'd some one else to meet;—
As have not I too?
Yet still I often think upon
Our many meetings, come and gone!
July—December!
Now let us make a tryst, and when,
Dear little soul, we meet again,—
The mansion is preparing—then
Thy Friend remember!