And he may ride in the rattling gig, Or flourish the Stanhope gay, And dream that he looks exceeding big To the people that walk in the way; But he shall think, when the night is still, On the stable-boy's gathering numbers, And the ghost of many a veteran bill Shall hover around his slumbers; The ghastly dun shall worry his sleep, And constables cluster around him, And he shall creep from the wood-hole deep Where their specter eyes have found him! Ay! gather your reins, and crack your thong, And bid your steed go faster; He does not know as he scrambles along, That he has a fool for his master; And hurry away on your lonely ride, Nor deign from the mire to save me; I will paddle it stoutly at your side With the tandem that nature gave me! EVENING. BY A TAILOR. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES Day hath put on his jacket, and around His burning bosom buttoned it with stars. Here will I lay me on the velvet grass, That is like padding to earth's meager ribs, And hold communion with the things about me. Ah me! how lovely is the golden braid, That binds the skirt of night's descending robe! The thin leaves, quivering on their silken threads, Do make a music like to rustling satin, As the light breezes smooth their downy nap. Ha! what is this that rises to my touch, So like a cushion? Can it be a cabbage? It is, it is that deeply injured flower, Which boys do flout us with;--but yet I love thee, Thou giant rose, wrapped in a green surtout. Doubtless in Eden thou didst blush as bright As these, thy puny brethren; and thy breath Sweetened the fragrance of her spicy air; But now thou seemest like a bankrupt beau, Stripped of his gaudy hues and essences, And growing portly in his sober garments. Is that a swan that rides upon the water? O no, it is that other gentle bird, Which is the patron of our noble calling. I well remember, in my early years, When these young hands first closed upon a goose I have a scar upon my thimble finger, Which chronicles the hour of young ambition My father was a tailor, and his father, And my sire's grandsire, all of them were tailors; They had an ancient goose,--it was an heir-loom From some remoter tailor of our race. It happened I did see it on a time When none was near, and I did deal with it, And it did burn me,--oh, most fearfully!