Classic and Contemporary Poetry
ST. JAMES PARK, by JAMES SMITH (1775-1839) Poet's Biography First Line: Twas june, and many a gossip wench Last Line: "may be a little altered too." Subject(s): London; Nature; Parks; Pride; Time; Self-esteem; Self-respect | ||||||||
'TWAS June, and many a gossip wench, Child-freighted, trod the central Mall; I gained a white unpeopled bench, And gazed upon the long Canal. Beside me, soon, in motley talk, Boys, nursemaids sat, a varying race; At length two females crossed the walk, And occupied the vacant space. In years they seem'd some forty-four, Of dwarfish stature, vulgar mien; A bonnet of black silk each wore, And each a gown of bombazine: And, while in loud and careless tones They dwelt upon their own concerns, Ere long I learned that Mrs. Jones Was one, and one was Mrs. Burns. They talked of little Jane and John, And hoped they'd come before 'twas dark, Then wondered why, with pattens on, One might not walk across the Park: They called it far to Camden-town, Yet hoped to reach it by-and-bye; And thought it strange, since flour was down, That bread should still continue high. They said, last Monday's heavy gales Had done a monstrous deal of ill; Then tried to count the iron rails That wound up Constitution hill: This 'larum sedulous to shun, I donn'd my gloves, to march away, When, as I gazed upon the one, "Good Heavens!" I cried, "'tis Nancy Gray." 'Twas Nancy, whom I led along The whitened and elastic floor, Amid mirth's merry pancing throng, Just two-and-twenty years before. Though sadly alter'd, I knew her, While she, 'twas obvious, knew me not; But mildly said, "Good evening, sir," And with her comrade left the spot. "Is this," I cried, in grief profound, "The fair, with whom, eclipsing all, I traversed Ranelagh's bright round, Or trod the mazes of Vauxhall? And is this all that Time can do? Has Nature nothing else in store? Is this, of lovely twenty-two, All that remains at forty-four? "Could I to such a helpmate cling? Were such a wedded dowdy mine, On yonder lamp-post would I swing, Or plunge in yonder Serpentine!" I left the Park with eyes askance, But, ere I entered Cleveland-row, Rude Reason thus threw in her lance, And dealt self-love a mortal blow. "Time, at whose touch all mortals bow, From either sex his prey secures, His scythe, while wounding Nancy's brow, Can scarce have smoothly swept o'er yours; By her you plainly were not known; Then, while you mourn the alter'd hue Of Nancy's face, suspect your own May be a little altered too." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ROCK AND HAWK by ROBINSON JEFFERS GODOLPHIN HORNE, WHO WAS CURSED WITH THE SIN OF PRIDE, AND BECAME A BOOT-BLACK by HILAIRE BELLOC PRIDE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE THIN EDGE OF YOUR PRIDE: 1 by KENNETH REXROTH PRIMER LESSON by CARL SANDBURG HAEC FABULA DOCET by ROBERT FROST VICTIM OF HIMSELF by MARVIN BELL REJECTED ADDRESSES: THE BABY'S DEBUT, BY W. W. by JAMES SMITH (1775-1839) |
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