My little Friend, so small and neat,
Whom years ago I used to meet
In Pall Mall daily;
How cheerily you tripp'd away
To work, it might have been to play,
You tripp'd 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 smil'd
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 fell back 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 parlour next the stars,
A bird, some treasur'd plants in jars,
About your casement?
You must have dwelt _au cinquieme_,
Like little darling What's-her-name,--
Eugene Sue's glory:
Perchance, unwittingly, I've heard
Your thrilling-toned Canary-bird
From that fifth storey.
I've seen some 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.
I sometimes to Pall Mall repair,
And see the damsels passing there;
But though I try to
Obtain one glance, they look discreet,
As though they'd someone else to meet,--
As have not _I_ too?
Yet still I often muse upon
Our many meetings--come and gone!
July--December!
Now let us make a tryste, and when,
Dear little soul, we meet again,
In some serener sphere, why then--
Thy Friend remember!