 | The Works of Thomas Love Peacock |  |
TO A FRIEND AT GUERNSEY
Again a few dull lines I send,
To greet my absent silent friend—
Tho' seldom with unworthy rhyme
I thus intrude upon your time,
I take these means to prove it true
I ever shall remember you,
Tho' with regret I plainly see
That you have quite forgotten me.
To greet my absent silent friend—
Tho' seldom with unworthy rhyme
I thus intrude upon your time,
I take these means to prove it true
I ever shall remember you,
Tho' with regret I plainly see
That you have quite forgotten me.
What can this strange neglect betoken?
Will your long silence ne'er be broken?
And must I daily hope in vain
To trace your characters again?
Now in the name of all that's kind
Can you no leisure minute find,
Just half a line or so to pop in,
If nothing more than “This comes hopping”?
'Tis now the time when Turkies bleed,
And children play, and cocknies feed;
Therefore in rhyme it stands to reason,
I ought, as usual at this Season,
My wishes for your health expressing
To send you o'er the Bellman's blessing:
Thro' all the coming year, my friend,
May mirth and joy your steps attend!
May you a merry Christmas share
Untroubled by old sulky Care,
And banish far his Demons murky,
With Aldermanic pie and Turkey!
No longer shall my Muse intrude,
Will your long silence ne'er be broken?
And must I daily hope in vain
To trace your characters again?
Now in the name of all that's kind
Can you no leisure minute find,
Just half a line or so to pop in,
If nothing more than “This comes hopping”?
187
And children play, and cocknies feed;
Therefore in rhyme it stands to reason,
I ought, as usual at this Season,
My wishes for your health expressing
To send you o'er the Bellman's blessing:
Thro' all the coming year, my friend,
May mirth and joy your steps attend!
May you a merry Christmas share
Untroubled by old sulky Care,
And banish far his Demons murky,
With Aldermanic pie and Turkey!
My time is short, I must conclude;
More of this scrawl is not required,
For, I'm in haste—and you are tired.
Farewell—and prythee if you can, Sir,
Let me have something like an Answer.
So till your welcome hand I see,
“Adieu! Adieu! remember me!”
| The Works of Thomas Love Peacock | |