The cries of New-York | ||
15
OYSTER MAN.
He was a phantom of a fright,When first he burst upon my sight,
A ragged apparition lent
To charm away my latest cent!
His eyes like bits of charcoal were,
Like charcoal too, his dusky hair;
But all things else about him drawn,
From dust and mud and ways forlorn;
A wondrous shape—a lump of clay—
To haunt—to startle—and waylay!
The cries of New-York | ||