I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER. I REMEMBER, I remember, I remember, I remember, And where my brother set The laburnum on his birth-day- I remember, I remember, Where I was used to swing, And thought the air must rush as fresh To swallows on the wing; My spirit flew in feathers then, That is so heavy now, And summer pools could hardly cool The fever on my brow! I remember, I remember, The fir trees dark and high; I used to think their slender tops Were close against the sky: It was a childish ignorance, But now 'tis little joy To know I'm farther off from Heav'n Than when I was a boy. * From "Friendship's Offering," 1826. THE POET'S PORTION. WHAT is a mine-a treasury—a dower— Look-if his dawn be not as other men's! When do his fruits delay, when doth his corn No sweet there is, no pleasure I can name, But he will sip it first-before the lees. -ere the bees 'Tis his to taste rich honey, Are busy with the brooms. He may forestall June's rosy advent for his coronal; Before th' expectant buds upon the bough, Twining his thoughts to bloom upon his brow. Oh! blest to see the flower in its seed, Leaves are but wings on which the summer flies So that what there is steep'd shall perish never, But live and bloom, and be a joy for ever. ODE TO THE CAMELEOPARD. WELCOME to Freedom's birth-place--and a den! Great Anti-climax, hail! So very lofty in thy front-but then, So dwindling at the tail!— In truth, thou hast the most unequal legs! To win it by a neck! That lengthy neck-how like a crane's it looks! Or dost thou browze on tip-top leaves or fruits- To some a long nose, like the elephant's ! Oh! had'st thou any organ to thy bellows, For instance of the Nile, Whether those Seven Mouths have any Mayhap thy luck too, tail From that high head, as from a lofty hill, What were the travels of our Major Denham, In that same line, If thou could'st only squat thee down and pen 'em! Strange sights, indeed, thou must have overlook'd, From hungry waves to have a loss still drearier, And find themselves, alas! beyond the mark, Live on, Giraffe! genteelest of raff kind! Or English fog, blight thy exotic lungs ! Whose very leopard-rash is grown contagious, So thou shalt take thy sweet diurnal feeds— JOHN TROT. A BALLAD. I. JOHN TROT he was as tall a lad As his dear Granny used to say, |