 | Interludes and Undertones, or, Music at Twilight |  |
136
CII. THE OLD POET'S LAST RESOURCE.
I
Stand in the corner, thou sturdy old broom-stick!Perhaps I shall need thee some cold winter day,
Perhaps my support thou wilt be, and my doom-stick
When maimed and defeated in Life's cruel fray.
My songs and my books may not yield me a penny,
But while thou art mine I've a prop and a trust.
My humblest of friends, sole survivor of many!
I look to thee yet to procure me a crust.
II
I know, in Pall Mall, a fair crossing, much trodden,With gutters to clear when the rain rustles down,
Where peers and rich merchants and bankers wealth-sodden
All pass and repass in the tide of the town.
There I will station me, proud as my betters,
If betters I have in the wearisome throng;
Sweeping pays better than wisdom or letters.
So, up with the broom-stick! and down with the song!
| Interludes and Undertones, or, Music at Twilight | |