The literary remains of the late Willis Gaylord Clark Including the Ollapodiana Papers, the Spirit Of Life, and a selection from his various prose and poetical writings |
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‘TO MISS LUCRETIA SOPHONISBA MATILDA JERUSHA CATLING: |
 | The literary remains of the late Willis Gaylord Clark |  |
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‘TO MISS LUCRETIA SOPHONISBA MATILDA JERUSHA CATLING:
Thou hast ravished my heart—thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes! Thy neck is like the tower of David, builded for an armory, whereon there hang a thousand bucklers, all shields of mighty men. How beautiful are thy feet, with shoes! Thy neck is as a tower of ivory: thine eyes like the fish-pools in Heshbon, by the gate of Bath-Rabbin: thy nose is as the tower of Lebanon, which looketh toward Damascus. How fair and pleasant art thou, O love, for delights!’
[From the Canticles, or the Song of Songs, as originally written by Solomon, and sung by him at Jerusalem, with great applause.]
Thou canst not hope, oh! nymph divine,
That I should ever court the*–*–*–*–*9
Or that when passion's glow is done,
My heart can ever love but*–*–*–*–*–*1
When from Hope's flowers exhales the dew,
Then Love's false smile deserts us*–*–*–*2
Then Fancy's radiance 'gins to flee,
And life is robbed of all the*–*–*–*–*3
And Sorrow, sad, her tears must pour
O'er cheeks where roses bloomed be*–*–*–*4—19
That I should ever court the*–*–*–*–*9
Or that when passion's glow is done,
My heart can ever love but*–*–*–*–*–*1
When from Hope's flowers exhales the dew,
Then Love's false smile deserts us*–*–*–*2
Then Fancy's radiance 'gins to flee,
And life is robbed of all the*–*–*–*–*3
And Sorrow, sad, her tears must pour
O'er cheeks where roses bloomed be*–*–*–*4—19
Yes! life's a scene all dim as Styx;
Its joys are dear at*–*–*–*–*–*–*3f6
Its raptures fly so quickly hence,
They 're scarcely cheap at*–*–*–*–*–*18d
Oh! for the dreams that then survive!
They 're high at pennies*–*–*–*–*–*25
The breast no more is filled with heaven,
When years it numbers*–*–*–*–*–*27
And yields it up to Manhood's fate,
About the age of*–*–*–*–*–*–*28
Finds the world cold, and dim, and dirty,
Ere the heart's annual count is*–*–*–*–*30
Alas! for all the joys that follow,
I would not give a quarter-dollar!*–*–*–*25—1.97½
Its joys are dear at*–*–*–*–*–*–*3f6
Its raptures fly so quickly hence,
They 're scarcely cheap at*–*–*–*–*–*18d
Oh! for the dreams that then survive!
They 're high at pennies*–*–*–*–*–*25
The breast no more is filled with heaven,
When years it numbers*–*–*–*–*–*27
And yields it up to Manhood's fate,
About the age of*–*–*–*–*–*–*28
Finds the world cold, and dim, and dirty,
Ere the heart's annual count is*–*–*–*–*30
Alas! for all the joys that follow,
I would not give a quarter-dollar!*–*–*–*25—1.97½
This, charming artiste, is the sum
To which life's added items come.
If into farther sums I stride,
I see the figures multiplied.
Subtract the profit ones from those
Whose all to loss untimely goes,
And in the aggregate you find
Enough to assure the thinking mind
That there's an overplus of evil,
Enough to fright the very d---l!
To which life's added items come.
If into farther sums I stride,
I see the figures multiplied.
Subtract the profit ones from those
Whose all to loss untimely goes,
And in the aggregate you find
Enough to assure the thinking mind
That there's an overplus of evil,
Enough to fright the very d---l!
Thus, my dear maid, I send to you
The balance of my metre due;
Please scrutinize the above amount,
And set it down in my account;
A wink to a horse is as good as a nod—
Your humble servant,
The balance of my metre due;
Please scrutinize the above amount,
And set it down in my account;
A wink to a horse is as good as a nod—
Your humble servant,
Ollapod.
| The literary remains of the late Willis Gaylord Clark | |