Partingtonian patchwork Blifkins the martyr : the domestic trials of a model husband. The modern syntax : Dr. Spooner's experiences in search of the delectable. Partington papers : strippings of the warm milk of human kindness. New and old dips from an unambitious inkstand. Humorous, eccentric, rhythmical |
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GRAPE-SKINS. |
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223
GRAPE-SKINS.
I saw a man of portly estate
Walking the street with regal gait;
Just the man that the eye well suits,
Proper and nice from hat to boots.
So perfect his coat, so neat his vest,
An exquisite taste was manifest,
And every one who chose to scan
Could only say, “What a tasteful man!”
Walking the street with regal gait;
Just the man that the eye well suits,
Proper and nice from hat to boots.
So perfect his coat, so neat his vest,
An exquisite taste was manifest,
And every one who chose to scan
Could only say, “What a tasteful man!”
Alas for the glory of human pride,
As frail and fickle as the tide!
For the polish of blacking and brush and oil
One little spatter of mud may spoil.
E'en as he walked the pave along,
With head exalted and footstep strong,
He trod on a grape-skin in his way,
And a man disgraced in the dirt he lay!
As frail and fickle as the tide!
For the polish of blacking and brush and oil
One little spatter of mud may spoil.
224
With head exalted and footstep strong,
He trod on a grape-skin in his way,
And a man disgraced in the dirt he lay!
This moral I drew from what I saw:
There are men in the world without a flaw,
Who are in such robes of sanctity found,
And such rare virtues engirt them round,
That we humble ourselves, as we pass them by,
With reverent and admiring eye,
Saying, while viewing such merits rare,
“Bless us, what good men they are!”
There are men in the world without a flaw,
Who are in such robes of sanctity found,
And such rare virtues engirt them round,
That we humble ourselves, as we pass them by,
With reverent and admiring eye,
Saying, while viewing such merits rare,
“Bless us, what good men they are!”
But alas for the glory of human pride,
As frail and fickle as the tide!
In the world of men they exalt their horn,
As though of a better clay they were born.
But there in their path the grape-skins wait,
—Temptations hidden perhaps till late—
One step of the foot—one curvetting lurch,
And down they come from their eminent perch.
As frail and fickle as the tide!
In the world of men they exalt their horn,
As though of a better clay they were born.
But there in their path the grape-skins wait,
—Temptations hidden perhaps till late—
One step of the foot—one curvetting lurch,
And down they come from their eminent perch.
In dress or morals 'tis much the same;
And happy is he who wins his fame,
If he die at its zenith, nor has to wait
Till he slip and fall through invidious fate.
He may dodge the rock and shy the cloud
That threat his step and bearing proud,
But let him not crow till danger's past—
He may by a grape-skin be overcast.
And happy is he who wins his fame,
If he die at its zenith, nor has to wait
Till he slip and fall through invidious fate.
He may dodge the rock and shy the cloud
That threat his step and bearing proud,
But let him not crow till danger's past—
He may by a grape-skin be overcast.
| Partingtonian patchwork | |