TO MY GRANDMOTHER Were Romney's limning true, What a lucky dog were you, Grandpapa! Her lips are sweet as love; They are parting! Do they move? Are they dumb? Her eyes are blue, and beam Beseechingly, and seem To say "Come!" What funny fancy slips From atween these cherry lips? Whisper me, Sweet sorceress in paint, What canon says I may n't Marry thee? That good-for-nothing Time Has a confidence sublime! When I first Saw this lady, in my youth, THE MINUET Now she sits there rocking, rocking, Yet her figure is so neat, And her ways so staid and sweet, Bending to her partner's bow, Grandma says our modern jumping, Modern ways are quite alarming, Grandma says; but boys were charming — |