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PARSON STORER IN A FIX; OR, THE MAGIC OF A KISS MISAPPLIED.
An austere planet ruled the hour when Parson S. had birth,
The veriest crab that ever backward crawled upon the earth;
All worldly loves and worldly lights he reckoned but a sham,
And, though his calling was to save, he would much rather damn.
Stern rigor dwelt within his eyes, naught kindly there was seen,—
Severity was written plain in all his sombre mien;
The urchins slunk his path away and glanced at him awry,
Their marbles unregarded lay while he was passing by;
The dogs would stop their barking and demurely walk away,
As they saw his eye upon them, would “Sweetheart, Blanche and Tray.”
The veriest crab that ever backward crawled upon the earth;
All worldly loves and worldly lights he reckoned but a sham,
And, though his calling was to save, he would much rather damn.
Stern rigor dwelt within his eyes, naught kindly there was seen,—
Severity was written plain in all his sombre mien;
The urchins slunk his path away and glanced at him awry,
Their marbles unregarded lay while he was passing by;
The dogs would stop their barking and demurely walk away,
As they saw his eye upon them, would “Sweetheart, Blanche and Tray.”
A joke he called frivolity,—a quiz was aye his bane,
A joyous laugh he'd sadly hope he'd never hear again;
It was said he hanged a puppy-dog that once had dared to play
And frolic round his study floor upon a Sabbath day.
A joyous laugh he'd sadly hope he'd never hear again;
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And frolic round his study floor upon a Sabbath day.
O, how he frowned the custom down where girls and lads would meet,
And sourer than verjuice he to hear their kisses sweet!
He wanted courtship godly done,—a special service writ,—
The ways that nature had prescribed he didn't like a bit.
And sourer than verjuice he to hear their kisses sweet!
He wanted courtship godly done,—a special service writ,—
The ways that nature had prescribed he didn't like a bit.
Now, the parson had a servant-maid,—a little charming girl,
Her face was graced by many a smile, her head by many a curl;
Her eye was blue as heaven, and like a bird's her voice,
A glance of which, a tone of which, made many a heart rejoice;
Her heart was always spring-light and all devoid of care,
And everybody wondered how it chanced that she came there.
Her face was graced by many a smile, her head by many a curl;
Her eye was blue as heaven, and like a bird's her voice,
A glance of which, a tone of which, made many a heart rejoice;
Her heart was always spring-light and all devoid of care,
And everybody wondered how it chanced that she came there.
If Parson Storer chided her, she heeded not a grain,
But her voice soon sounded cheerily around the house again;
'T would echo through the parsonage, through gallery and room,
Till the ancient pile was robbed per force of half its sombre gloom.
But her voice soon sounded cheerily around the house again;
'T would echo through the parsonage, through gallery and room,
Till the ancient pile was robbed per force of half its sombre gloom.
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Now, Susan—that 's her name—had a lover true and kind,
But to follow by the parson's rule they never were inclined;
The kitchen fire saw many a scene that, had the parson kenned,
Would have furnished texts for homilies and sermons without end.
But to follow by the parson's rule they never were inclined;
The kitchen fire saw many a scene that, had the parson kenned,
Would have furnished texts for homilies and sermons without end.
When the light had left the parson's room, an hour after prayers,
And many an hour after that, was brightly burning theirs;
And kisses sweet and many, and many a tender word,
Had the clock that stood behind the door both witnessed and heard.
And many an hour after that, was brightly burning theirs;
And kisses sweet and many, and many a tender word,
Had the clock that stood behind the door both witnessed and heard.
O, love! thou art delicious when dressed in sauce like this!
I often think 't were well to stop at this way-house to bliss,
For wear and tear of after years must sprinkle in alloy,
Which ardent lovers never know in plenitude of joy.
I often think 't were well to stop at this way-house to bliss,
For wear and tear of after years must sprinkle in alloy,
Which ardent lovers never know in plenitude of joy.
It was on the night of Saturday, and the parson's light was out,
And Susan—bright, expecting Sue—was bustling about;
With eager eye she marked the door, with eager ear the lock,
Awaiting anxiously to hear the music of that knock.
And Susan—bright, expecting Sue—was bustling about;
With eager eye she marked the door, with eager ear the lock,
Awaiting anxiously to hear the music of that knock.
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At last, her patience wholly spent, she looked out on the night;
The moon had sunk behind the hills, the stars were dimly bright,
She listened long to hear the step that she was wont to hear,
When a hand upon the outer gate gave rapture to her ear.
The moon had sunk behind the hills, the stars were dimly bright,
She listened long to hear the step that she was wont to hear,
When a hand upon the outer gate gave rapture to her ear.
Upon the wings of love she flew (don't think of earthly feet!
'T is vulgar, such a medium, where ardent lovers meet);
She clasped the comer in her arms, she hung upon his breast,
As captured bird would cling restored unto its natal nest;
And kisses shed she on his lips,—her words outgushing fast,—
“Bless you, Samuel, my dear, and have you come at last?”
'T is vulgar, such a medium, where ardent lovers meet);
She clasped the comer in her arms, she hung upon his breast,
As captured bird would cling restored unto its natal nest;
And kisses shed she on his lips,—her words outgushing fast,—
“Bless you, Samuel, my dear, and have you come at last?”
“Susan, what means this?” gently spoke the parson's heavy tone,
For it was he, and no one else, out in the night alone;
And sore surprised was he to feel the ardor thus bestowed,
But his breast experienced a flame that never there had glowed.
For it was he, and no one else, out in the night alone;
And sore surprised was he to feel the ardor thus bestowed,
But his breast experienced a flame that never there had glowed.
And Parson Storer grew a man of better mould from then,
And acted out a better part among his fellow-men;
And people talked, as oft they will, and shoulders they did shrug,
And laid his new-found gentleness to pretty Susan's hug.
And acted out a better part among his fellow-men;
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And laid his new-found gentleness to pretty Susan's hug.
And Susan married happily, and fortune's sunny rays
Smiled on her and her children for many, many days;
And oft has she the story told, with ever new delight,
Of how she hugged the parson there upon that summer night.
Smiled on her and her children for many, many days;
And oft has she the story told, with ever new delight,
Of how she hugged the parson there upon that summer night.
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