 | The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") |  |
337
THE BUILDER'S STORY.
What time we were wedded our prospect was high—
First floor down the chimney—my Milly and I;
Our neighbors below thought more happiness theirs,
But we climbed up to heaven when we mounted the stairs.
First floor down the chimney—my Milly and I;
Our neighbors below thought more happiness theirs,
But we climbed up to heaven when we mounted the stairs.
Some rickety furniture filled up the place,
On the walls our two photographs hung face to face;
A square of old carpet—its pile had been lost;
One teacup between us—less sugar it cost.
On the walls our two photographs hung face to face;
A square of old carpet—its pile had been lost;
One teacup between us—less sugar it cost.
When sunset was making for darkness a way,
And the jack-plane and handsaw I dropped for the day,
How I entered the house with a skip and a hop,
And two steps at once, climbed the stairs to the top!
And the jack-plane and handsaw I dropped for the day,
How I entered the house with a skip and a hop,
And two steps at once, climbed the stairs to the top!
The teakettle sang a new song when I came;
The fire, at my voice, showed a ruddier flame;
And better than lamplight to chase away gloom,
The smile of my Milly illumined the room.
The fire, at my voice, showed a ruddier flame;
And better than lamplight to chase away gloom,
The smile of my Milly illumined the room.
There were beautiful views o'er the tin-covered roofs,
Away from the sound of the street horses' hoofs,
With the air cool and pure at the height where we dwelt
And the troubles of others unknown and unfelt.
Away from the sound of the street horses' hoofs,
With the air cool and pure at the height where we dwelt
And the troubles of others unknown and unfelt.
The love of my youth and the mate of my prime,
The mother of buds that were blossoms in time,
How she saved from my earnings what else had been spent,
And with much or with little was always content!
The mother of buds that were blossoms in time,
How she saved from my earnings what else had been spent,
And with much or with little was always content!
338
So saving, so toiling, a few years swept by,
We descended at last from our lodgings on high
To a house of our own; if 'twere not of the best,
It made for our fledglings a snug little nest.
We descended at last from our lodgings on high
To a house of our own; if 'twere not of the best,
It made for our fledglings a snug little nest.
In building for others, I built for myself,
Gained long rows of houses and great stores of pelf,
Till at last, fortune crowning my labor and care,
At sixty I wrote myself down “millionaire.”
Gained long rows of houses and great stores of pelf,
Till at last, fortune crowning my labor and care,
At sixty I wrote myself down “millionaire.”
And now in a mansion both lofty and wide,
I feed me ten lackeys and pay them beside,
Tread on triple-piled carpets, on cushions recline,
And from silver and porcelain luxurious dine.
I feed me ten lackeys and pay them beside,
Tread on triple-piled carpets, on cushions recline,
And from silver and porcelain luxurious dine.
Rich curtains of damask at windows are found;
Easy-chairs satin-covered in parlors abound;
The chambers are furnished in elegance all,
And armor and pictures are hung in the hall.
Easy-chairs satin-covered in parlors abound;
The chambers are furnished in elegance all,
And armor and pictures are hung in the hall.
And there is my library—gorgeous indeed;
'Tis a fine place to smoke in or journals to read;
The books—a wise friend has selected the best;
The bindings are handsome, respected they rest.
'Tis a fine place to smoke in or journals to read;
The books—a wise friend has selected the best;
The bindings are handsome, respected they rest.
There is all that conduces to ease and repose,
Yet something is lacking. What is it? Who knows?
There is nothing to hope for; the race has been won,
And possession breeds surfeit when striving is done.
Yet something is lacking. What is it? Who knows?
There is nothing to hope for; the race has been won,
And possession breeds surfeit when striving is done.
And here, as we sit, both my Milly and I
To our first year of wedlock look back with a sigh,
When that garden of ours, so my Milly declares,
Was a Garden of Eden up four pair of stairs.
To our first year of wedlock look back with a sigh,
When that garden of ours, so my Milly declares,
Was a Garden of Eden up four pair of stairs.
| The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") | |