 | The complete poetical works of Thomas Hood |  |
DECEMBER AND MAY
‘Crabbed Age and Youth cannot live together.’
—Shakspeare.
—Shakspeare.
Said Nestor, to his pretty wife, quite sorrowful one day,
‘Why, dearest, will you shed in pearls those lovely eyes away?
You ought to be more fortified;’ ‘Ah, brute, be quiet, do,
I know I'm not so fortyfied, nor fiftyfied, as you!
‘Why, dearest, will you shed in pearls those lovely eyes away?
You ought to be more fortified;’ ‘Ah, brute, be quiet, do,
I know I'm not so fortyfied, nor fiftyfied, as you!
‘Oh, men are vile deceivers all, as I have ever heard,
You'd die for me you swore, and I—I took you at your word.
I was a tradesman's widow then—a pretty change I've made;
To live, and die the wife of one, a widower by trade!’
You'd die for me you swore, and I—I took you at your word.
I was a tradesman's widow then—a pretty change I've made;
To live, and die the wife of one, a widower by trade!’
‘Come, come, my dear, these flighty airs declare, in sober truth,
You want as much in age, indeed, as I can want in youth;
Besides, you said you liked old men, though now at me you huff.’
‘Why, yes,’ she said, ‘and so I do—but you're not old enough!’
You want as much in age, indeed, as I can want in youth;
Besides, you said you liked old men, though now at me you huff.’
‘Why, yes,’ she said, ‘and so I do—but you're not old enough!’
‘Come, come, my dear, let's make it up, and have a quiet hive;
I'll be the best of men,—I mean, I'll be the best alive!
Your grieving so will kill me, for it cuts me to the core.’—
‘I thank ye, sir, for telling me—for now I'll grieve the more!’
I'll be the best of men,—I mean, I'll be the best alive!
Your grieving so will kill me, for it cuts me to the core.’—
‘I thank ye, sir, for telling me—for now I'll grieve the more!’
| The complete poetical works of Thomas Hood | |