Poems | ||
117
FOUR DAYS MISERY: AN EPIGRAM.
In imitation of the French.
Last Sunday night I lost my steed,Eclipse was not of better breed:
Last Monday night I lost my cousin,
Not one is left me of a dozen:
Last Tuesday night I lost my wife,
The joy, the honor of my life:
Last Wen'sday night I lost my friend,
My sorrows ne'er will have an end.
Pray who can have misfortunes worse?
I'm really sorry for my horse.
Poems | ||