Morning herald. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1837-1840, 1840-11-06
Prem Lady Byron, and other Poe~as If MDonaia Clarke
Lines to a Lady.


Indeed, my dear, twill neverdo,
For fellow, who is AZ,
To waste the noontlde 0! hisyoaTs,
In morning smiles and midnight tears,
And talking, and thinking, the time away
Indeed, II isn't quite X.
Five often wished you were the daughter
OF some rough smack man, along shore,
Baptized IN lightning, and salt alter,
AND rock a by the whirlw ind's wintry roar.
Then would smack the Smack mans daughter,
When in the dark, slyly caught her,
And, after that delicious buss,
marry her. a; once, without more Iass-
But, alas it isn't So
You were born in Luxury's bower,
Where the scene is all glow,
With the smile of Wealth and Power.
Ard you have turned your hack on those,
Who, q 'spose,
When they heard that am thinking
Of your soft pillow, night and day,
Whene'er kneel, and pray)
AZ each other, gaily winking,
Whisper'd-psho!
He expectto be the beau
or her, who has refused the offers
OfgeRtle blood, and golden Golfers,
And at the age ofs7,
Dreams less of earth, than Heaven.
know it is presump:cn-but,
cannot help it, dear
Tho your door is always shut
When the servants see me near.
And tho my Friends all say, I'm mad
In wishing your proud heart to noose
Tho Hope is looking somewhat sad,
She may look brighter, when we meet.
I'tisnt alpdys in the street.
have friend-who in October,
On the evening ofthe 10Th, twas,
Who, with lock quite sober,
Told me, pos,
That he wonld introduce me TO you;
asked him-if he knew you;
Oh no. but he would take the risk
Of being kickd out, for my sake
IL set my feelings all frisk-
dreamed that night OF wedding cake,
And an india rubber Parson,
Who cane to fasten
Our fates together.
In tender, moonlight weather,
When birds, and bouncing bab;es, cosy,
Sang Jim. Jim along Josey
What did that plump dream poi.end-
That you would be the gentle Friend,
Ordained OF God, long ere our birth
To wean me from the wilds OF Earth,
To the smooth pathway, that inclines
Where Heavens etein Il Summer, smiles.
Phew-phew-
Just think. I'm42.
A very serious age, I'm sure,
For afellow, who is roer
And crack'd, SO some Conjecture
But must end the lecture;
And If You will not let ne in,
After SO long have been
Looking my prettiest, 10 betwit you.
shall have to pitch YOU,
No-l don't mean that
YOU'RE much to plump, my dear, COR that
mean that must lift my hat
To some of the Broadway BEAUTIES, ii
Your amily so stiff,
And consider not worth their while
There are some little girls, who smile
On me, and set my hopes a-titter,
And thought would be most bitter
To lose you. fter the mute oourtng
That's be.n hut childish spor.ing)
OF quite four years;
Yet, where's the use OF tears
(Topeople ofour yesrs)
And all that sort offender thing,
lfmy hour was in ii, Spring,
nag ait four years more.
But my spirit hears the roar
OfLife's bleak winter days,
And while my hearts a-blazc,
Let me melt some gentle heart, in mine,
Ere pass Deaths Equinoxsl Line,
And the tempest, and the cloud,
Blow round my Home, its funeral shrc1d.
! tell y ou " hat I'll do
No; lwonttell you, now,
Ivow,
But I'll whisper it in yonrear,
Hyou'll ask me down to tea,
And condssccnd to hear
The eloquence Of a Bonded knee.
But If you won't, will
Try to trap some girl
Who looks beautiful, 10 kill,
With her soft eye. and shady curl,
Andli Of ripe, luxurious red,
As sue drops her modest eyes, and head,
And passes, with trembling tread.
AMI half looks back, at me,
AS some old Codger smiles he.he,
The fellows in fine luck,
As softly chuck
Hope under the chin, an3 think O times
That will ronr, like my Tioting rhymes.
Now, the want aMothorly wife,
More than ticklish child, in teens,
Yet, can't waste my life
In guessing at what Bliss means,
Butmust ascertain the blushing fact.
So, H. again, I'm backed
Out ofmy pale desires, Eyou,
As I'm more than ~,
mus, clasp the girl who loves me best,
And makes 40 silly fuss
About the legal buss
Andbeing, in hystcricks pressed
SO TO the right about, my deaTs,
With your bushes, smiles, and tears
Hold mp your blessed, bashtul eyes,
tswcet as Aunt Polly's pumpkin pies)
And cont all speak at once ~ ..r
WHO viii have me in two months,
Tho I'm cruy and IL
Dear little Duckief-how'l ii that co,
With an onion and an oyster stew.
Nov. 5th 1870