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About this Poem 

From Ballads and Songs (London: Cassell and Company, 1896).

 

On a Very Old Woman

  LA MOTTE FOUQUÉ.

 "Und Du gingst einst, die Myrt' im Haare."

  And thou wert once a maiden fair,
    A blushing virgin warm and young:
  With myrtles wreathed in golden hair,
  And glossy brow that knew no care—
    Upon a bridegroom's arm you hung.

  The golden locks are silvered now,
    The blushing cheek is pale and wan;
  The spring may bloom, the autumn glow,
  All's one—in chimney corner thou
    Sitt'st shivering on.—

  A moment—and thou sink'st to rest!
  To wake perhaps an angel blest,
    In the bright presence of thy Lord.
  Oh, weary is life's path to all!
  Hard is the strife, and light the fall,
    But wondrous the reward!

this poem is in the public domain. 

this poem is in the public domain. 

William Makepeace Thackeray

William Makepeace Thackeray, born July 18, 1811, was an English writer best known for his novels, particularly The History of Henry Esmond, Esq. (The Mershon Company Publishers, 1852) and Vanity Fair (Bradbury and Evans, 1848). While in school, Thackeray began writing poems, which he published in a number of magazines, chiefly Fraser and Punch. He died on December 24, 1863.

by this poet

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  THE MAYFAIR LOVE-SONG.

 Winter and summer, night and morn,
    I languish at this table dark;
  My office window has a corn-
    er looks into St. James's Park.
  I hear the foot-guards' bugle-horn,
    Their tramp upon parade I mark;
  I am a gentleman forlorn,
    I am a Foreign-Office Clerk.

  My toils,
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  Untrue to my Ulric I never could be,
  I vow by the saints and the blessed Marie,
  Since the desolate hour when we stood by the shore,
  And your dark galley waited to carry you o'er:
  My faith then I plighted, my love I confess'd,
  As I gave you the BATTLE-AXE marked with your crest!

  When the bold
poem
  Yonder to the kiosk, beside the creek,
  Paddle the swift caque.
  Thou brawny oarsman with the sunburnt cheek,
  Quick! for it soothes my heart to hear the Bulbul speak.

  Ferry me quickly to the Asian shores,
  Swift bending to your oars.
  Beneath the melancholy sycamores,
  Hark! what a ravishing note the