Chips, fragments and vestiges by Gail Hamilton :: :: University of Virginia Library

Emilia, my dear, and the kerchief committee,
Come gather around while I sing you a ditty;
Not of some lonely Chloe who died broken-hearted,
Because from her side cruel Colin departed,
For I think, my dear girls, 'tis a very poor course
To mend a bad matter by making it worse,
And if a young damsel is left by her wooer,
I cannot imagine what good it can do her,
And what the particular pleasure 'twill give her
To throw herself hastily into a river—
Nor prate I of freedom, that much abused article,
Bepraised by all striplings endowed with a particle
Of that indescribable gift of Queen Mab,
Which the vulgar denominate “gift o' the gab,”
For though we are truly the great “Yankee” nation,
And abundantly able to “whip” all creation,
We've just now small reason for congratulation.
For our President true, I've sufficient affection,
But Heaven forbid I should sing his election
My own Massachusetts meant not he should have, he knew,
The White House that stands “at the end of the avenue.”
Were the Pathfinder there with his garland of glory,
I would sing you a roundelay, child, con amore—

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And though he is not, we rejoice that no less he
Deserves it and more with his beautiful Jessie.
So we'll meet every foe, should insulting bemoan he us,
With the truth wherewith Cato once strengthened Sempronius;
But ask not a Freedom song when you remember
I hung up my harp on the Fourth of November.
And now, O committee, for fear you should say
I spin out my song in a very strange way,
By telling you each insignificant thing,
About which my mind is made up not to sing,—
Reminding you thus of the mountain and mouse—
Or a very large hall to a very small house,
I'll tell you at once ere I come to the close,
The theme of my lay is—myself and my nose.

A long time ago in a domicile lone
Within sound of the ocean's unceasing moan,
Where the skies were bluer than smile on me now,
And the winds were fiercer than breathe on my brow,
And wilder and bleaker the mountain snows,
We came into being—myself and my nose.
How well I remember the fateful day—
How quiet, observant, and peaceful I lay
Till I heard the words of my cruel nurse,
“She is certainly ugly, but might have been worse.”
Nay, before I had entered my very first doze,
My father exclaimed, “Do but look at her nose.”

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With a fierceness of fury 'twere hard to tell,
I doubled my fists and I uttered a yell,
Piercing, sonorous, prolonged, and clear,
A yell 'twould be worth your while to hear,
Whereat the nurse and my father and mother,
Gazed in amazement on one another,
Till the former with greater acumen smiled,
And nodded and said, “a remarkable child.”
So I was appeased and at once shrunk back
Into the proper juvenile track.

The old woman indeed had spoken the truth,
For I was a very remarkable youth,
But unlike most of those who give signs of precocity,
I did not expire with good-natured velocity,
But persistently managed to grow and to thrive
As well as the veriest dunce alive—
A remarkable fact of itself, I must say,
Considering the perfectly orthodox way
In which doses of oil and bark and root
Were crammed unconcernedly down my throat,
As if a poor baby with scarcely a rag on
Were a modified species of wantley dragon.
Nevertheless I grew apace
In strength and endurance if not in grace—
And I and my nose went peering around
In search of whatever there was to be found—
Over mountain and valley sans sun-shade and bonnet,
(No persuasion could ever induce me to don it),

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I roamed at my will while my poor mother cried,
As my peregrinations she wistfully eyed,
“My child, you will turn your adventurous nose
As black as the African Scipios.”
I chased all the girls and I fought all their brothers,
And sent them bewailing, soon, home to their mothers,
Till, in a full circuit of twenty miles round
There was not a single brave lad to be found
That was hardy enough to resist my appeals,
But at sight of my nose forthwith took to his heels—
(I mention with feelings of deepest regret
'Tis a habit they've never recovered from yet!)

But as I grew up into woman's estate
My carelessness waned and my sorrow waxed great—
A sense of my ugliness broke my repose—
And I bitterly mourned my unfortunate nose.
All my friends stood aghast at my heart-rending grief
And strove by affection to bring me relief,
But with mutual gloom did each interview close,
While I only exclaimed, “O my nose, my poor nose!”

At length, a sad, heart-broken exile, from home
As my only resort I concluded to roam—
As if any road which a traveller goes
Can lead him away from a terrible nose!

“My child,” said my father, “'tis foolish in you,
For wherever you go, there your nose must go too—

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You have not a doubt of the fact, I suppose,
That a girl must assuredly follow her nose.”

But in vain—I departed—I came to your city
And presented myself, a meet object for pity.
I came and you saw and have conquered, my friends,
See how a divinity shapeth our ends—
For though I am certain you all will agree
'Tis the ugliest nose that you ever did see,
Yet a nose, I am equally sure you will say,
Whether aquiline, Roman, or retroussé,
A nose turned up or a nose turned down—
A nose all freckled or wholly brown—
A nose too large or a nose too small,
Is a thousand times better than no nose at all;
At least, so I judge from the cheerful celerity
With which you engaged in your late work of charity,
For you see that your ready and active decision
In making such very abundant provision
For an organ, whose wants, although innocent quite,
Must never be mentioned to ears polite,
In a manner that cannot be gainsaid discloses
You approve not the counsel of Aaron to Moses
Suggesting a decapitation of noses.

Your labor, my loved ones, is not in vain,
In word or in thought I will never complain.
Nay, if there should chance to spring up a thought,
A wish that my nose might be what it is not,

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I'll remember that nose is a sign and a token
Of a friendship for you which shall never be broken—
Of a depth of affection no words can tell—
So dearest and sweetest, farewell, farewell.

P.S.—I meant to stop there, but never a word
Ventured upon by a singing bird,
Ranted by actor, or stammered by mimic
Can be found to rhyme with my patronymic;
But though 'tis a very prosaic name
'Twill likely enough long continue the same—
And our mothers have told us what cannot be cured
With great resignation must be endured—
So I'll be content with a sensible rhyme,
Though in truth it has but an unmusical chime—
And say I remain wherever I lodge
Your very affectionate to Dominie Dodge.