On a Very Old Woman

1811 –

1863

  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.

At the Zoo

First I saw the white bear, then I saw the black;
Then I saw the camel with a hump upon his back;
Then I saw the grey wolf, with mutton in his maw;
Then I saw the wombat waddle in the straw;
Then I saw the elephant a-waving of his trunk;
Then I saw the monkeys—mercy, how unpleasantly they smelt!

William Makepeace Thackeray

1863

The King of Yvetot

There was a king of Yvetot, Of whom renown hath little said, Who let all thoughts of glory go, And dawdled half his days a-bed; And every night, as night came round, By Jenny, with a nightcap crowned, Slept very sound: Sing ho, ho, ho! and he, he, he! That's the kind of king for me. And every day it came to pass, That four lusty meals made he; And, step by step, upon an ass, Rode abroad, his realms to see; And wherever he did stir, What think you was his escort, sir? Why, an old cur. Sing ho, ho, ho !

William Makepeace Thackeray

2018

The Garret

     With pensive eyes the little room I view,
       Where, in my youth, I weathered it so long;
     With a wild mistress, a stanch friend or two,
       And a light heart still breaking into song:
     Making a mock of life, and all its cares,
       Rich in the glory of my rising sun,
     Lightly I vaulted up four pair of stairs,
       In the brave days when I was twenty-one.

     Yes; 'tis a garret—let him know't who will—
       There was my bed—full hard it was and small.
     My table there—and I decipher still
       Half a lame couplet charcoaled on the wall.
     Ye joys,

William Makepeace Thackeray

2018

Poems

On a Very Old Woman

More by this poet

At the Zoo

The King of Yvetot

The Garret

Poems

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On a Very Old Woman

More by this poet

At the Zoo

The King of Yvetot

The Garret

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