The Portland daily press., 1883-12-25
Birthday Gifts.

1.-THE following poem first appeared in the "Christ-
mas Locket'' for 1870 the holiday number of that
excellent magazine ''Old and New edited by the
Rev. Edward E. Hale, which has been discontinued
The verses appear in this Holiday Supplement- of the
PRESS by special permission of the venerable au.
thor, now 80 years of age.l
Papal don't you know it is my birthday?
Don't you know am five years old to-day?
My poor wooden horse has lost his head
My dear little kitten is all gone dead;
My marbles are lost; and my top won't hum;
And, darling papa, please give me drum
The soldier-boys want me to come out and play;
And want drum for I'm five to-day!
Papa do you know it is my birthday?
Do you know I am ten years old to day?
And I've got my Latin, and done my sums;
And I'm tired of marbles and tops and drums;
And at school never have got in row;
And grandma declares made nice bow;
And SO, altogether, to go with my mates,
should like, dear papa, nice pair of skates.
Come, father, n do not forget, pray,
L am just fifteen this blessed day!
I'm pretty tall fellow for that, you see;
And in less than year, in college I'll be-
Unless all my digging should drive me to bed.
For I'm studying the eyes almost out of my head,
When I'd rather be popping away at a duck,
With very great skill and very poor luck!
So I'll come to the point; for under the sun
There's nothing want like handsome new gun
Twenty years old, and fine mustache!
A part of commencement,-a glorious dash!
And, father, you heard what clapping got;
knew where you sat- and looked at that spot.
And thanked you, my father, for loving me so,
Lea
The gift for my birthday? If truth must be told,
My watch is Of silver, and might be of gold!
My father, to-day am just twenty-five,
Ready and glad to struggle and strive;
But the world, my father, to me looks bright.
For the gentle promise l won last night;
And the birthday gift that would gladden. me
Is your tender blessing on Clara and me.
Thirty years old this blessed day!
The clouds may come, but they never stay;
For sunshine chases the shadows in turni
That, from my smiling babe I learn,
From the cradle where once we leaned and wept
While with waxen cheeks our first-born slept.
But now my wife's fair hand see
The robe so stealthily wrought for me.
Am thirty-fve? Is it even SO?
Does my saucy wife pretend to know?
But the brief ten years of my welded joy
Shine out in the eyes of my laughing boy;
And Minnie's small fingers have hemmed for me
The 'kerchiefs my birthday gift to be.
Forty years old; and my father lies
Where DER his grave the fir tree sighs
His smile and his blessing dwelt with me-
The blessing feel, the smile l see
AS when in my motherless, boyhood DAYS,
lie warmed my heart with his words of praise
Now my holy gift from my sister Ann
Is the pictured face of the dear old man.
Forty-fve! and with blushing face
My Minnie looks down with modest grace
While her lover pleads and think of the day
So well rememberi cannot say nay;
She looks like her mother, the pretty young thing
see it must end in wedding-ring;
And my birthday gift this year must be
son that shall steal my daughter from me.
l am fifty dear; tits the prime of lifel
No wrinkles as yet, you can count, my wife;
For the busy world is SO full of joy
That sometimes think l am still boy.
All! here is my gift which just have found,
From my children, "a volume superbly bound
You Williams! how shall stife my rage?-
An elegant. classical treatise on Age
Sixty years old! and thy silver hair,
My Clara, to me looks wondrous fair:
But bark! what trampling feet below!
My clerks smiling and goodly row.
A cane, with head of gold they bear;
They speak of my kinl and watchful care:
They call me father! words are SO weak,
Do you wonder, my wife, that could not speak?
Threescore and ten sounds rather old:
Withered, but fair, is the hand hold.
Clara, my loving. long-tried wife,
Lo in thine eyes read my life,-
Peaceful, whateer the world might bring,
Ready the Fathers praise to sing.
See, the grandchildren's thoughtful care!
/ sit in my stately birthday chair.
Eighty! the world is changed below;
Progress it is, think, know!
They are building Homo for Aged Men;
must send check; just hand me my pen,-
1t shakes mo matters few days more;
The pleasant journey is almost DER.
Give me your grandmother's silver curl,
My birthday gift, the last, dear girl.
My blessing goodnight! t he Old Mans Home!
Yes, it is time, am glad to come.