Your figure was tall, then, and perfectly straight, Though it now has two twists from upright-- But bless you! still bless you! my Partner! my Kate! Though you be such a perfect old fright! II. The sun was slumbering in the West. My daily labors past; On Anna's soft and gentle breast My head reclined at last;-- The darkness clos'd around, so dear To fond congenial souls, And thus she murmur'd at my ear, "My love, we're out of coals!" "That Mister Bond has call'd again, Insisting on his rent; And all the Todds are coming up To see us, out of Kent;-- I quite forgot to tell you John Has had a tipsy fall;-- I'm sure there's something going on With that vile Mary Hall!--" "Miss Bell has bought the sweetest silk, And I have bought the rest-- Of course, if we go out of town, Southend will be the best.-- I really think the Jones's house Would be the thing for us;-- I think I told you Mrs. Pope Had parted with her _nus_-- "Cook, by the way, came up to-day, To bid me suit myself-- And what d'ye think? the rats have gnawed The victuals on the shelf.-- And, lord! there's such a letter come, Inviting you to fight! Of course you don't intend to go-- God bless you, dear, good night!" III. A PARENTAL ODE TO MY SON, AGED THREE YEARS AND FIVE MONTHS. Thou happy, happy elf! (But stop,--first let me kiss away that tear)-- Thou tiny image of myself! (My love, he's poking peas into his ear!) Thou merry, laughing sprite! With spirits feather-light, Untouch'd by sorrow, and unsoil'd by sin-- (Good heav'ns! the child is swallowing a pin!) Thou little tricksy Puck! With antic toys so funnily bestuck, Light as the singing bird that wings the air-- (The door! the door! he'll tumble down the stair!) Thou darling of thy sire! (Why, Jane, he'll set his pinafore a-fire!) Thou imp of mirth and joy! In Love's dear chain so strong and bright a link, Thou idol of thy parents--(Drat the boy! There goes my ink!) Thou cherub--but of earth; Fit playfellow for Fays, by moonlight pale, In harmless sport and mirth, (That dog will bite him if he pulls its tail!) Thou human humming-bee, extracting honey From ev'ry blossom in the world that blows, Singing in Youth's Elysium ever sunny, (Another tumble!--that's his precious nose!) Thy father's pride and hope! (He'll break the mirror with that skipping-rope!) With pure heart newly stamp'd from Nature's mint-- (Where _did_ he learn that squint?) Thou young domestic dove! (He'll have that jug off, with another shove!) Dear nurseling of the hymeneal nest! (Are those torn clothes his best?) Little epitome of man! (He'll climb upon the table, that's his plan!) Touch'd with the beauteous tints of dawning life-- (He's got a knife!)