The Poems of Winthrop Mackworth Praed With a Memoir by the Rev. Derwent Coleridge. Fourth Edition. In Two Volumes |
 |
| I. |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
|
|
|
ANTICIPATION. |
| II. |
| I. |
|
| II. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
 | The Poems of Winthrop Mackworth Praed |  |
362
ANTICIPATION.
“Oh yes! he is in Parliament;
He's been returning thanks;
You can't conceive the time he's spent
Already on his franks.
He'll think of nothing, night and day,
But place, and the gazette:”—
No matter what the people say,—
You won't believe them yet.
He's been returning thanks;
You can't conceive the time he's spent
Already on his franks.
He'll think of nothing, night and day,
But place, and the gazette:”—
No matter what the people say,—
You won't believe them yet.
“He filled an album, long ago,
With such delicious rhymes;
Now we shall only see, you know,
His speeches in the ‘Times;’
And liquid tone and beaming brow,
Bright eyes and locks of jet,
He'll care for no such nonsense now:”—
Oh! don't believe them yet!
With such delicious rhymes;
Now we shall only see, you know,
His speeches in the ‘Times;’
And liquid tone and beaming brow,
Bright eyes and locks of jet,
He'll care for no such nonsense now:”—
Oh! don't believe them yet!
“I vow he's turned a Goth, a Hun,
By that disgusting Bill;
He'll never make another pun;
He's danced his last quadrille.
We shall not see him flirt again
With any fair coquette;
He'll never laugh at Drury Lane.”—
Psha!—don't believe them yet.
By that disgusting Bill;
He'll never make another pun;
He's danced his last quadrille.
363
With any fair coquette;
He'll never laugh at Drury Lane.”—
Psha!—don't believe them yet.
“Last week I heard his uncle boast
He's sure to have the seals;
I read it in the ‘Morning Post’
That he has dined at Peel's;
You'll never see him any more,
He's in a different set;
He cannot eat at half-past four:”—
No?—don't believe them yet.
He's sure to have the seals;
I read it in the ‘Morning Post’
That he has dined at Peel's;
You'll never see him any more,
He's in a different set;
He cannot eat at half-past four:”—
No?—don't believe them yet.
“In short, he'll soon be false and cold,
And infinitely wise;
He'll grow next year extremely old,
He'll tell enormous lies;
He'll learn to flatter and forsake,
To feign and to forget:”—
O whisper—or my heart will break—
You won't believe them yet!
And infinitely wise;
He'll grow next year extremely old,
He'll tell enormous lies;
He'll learn to flatter and forsake,
To feign and to forget:”—
O whisper—or my heart will break—
You won't believe them yet!
| The Poems of Winthrop Mackworth Praed | |