On Brooklyn Bridge I saw a man drop dead.
It meant no more than if he were a sparrow.

Above us rose Manhattan;
below, the river spread to meet sea and sky.

‘And I fare you well, Lady Ouncebell,
For I must needs be gone,
And this time two year I 'll meet you again,
To finish the loves we begun.’

‘That is a long time, Lord Lovill,’ said she,
‘To live in fair Scotland;’
‘And so it is, Lady Ouncebell,
To leave a fair lady alone.’

He had not been in fair Scotland
Not half above half a year,
But a longin mind came into his head,
Lady Ouncebell he woud go see her.

He called up his stable-groom,
To sadle his milk-white stead;
Dey down, dey down, dey down dery down,

" And he casting away his garment rose and came to Jesus."

And he cast it down, down, on the green grass,
Over the young crocuses, where the dew was —
He cast the garment of his flesh that was full of death,
And like a sword his spirit showed out of the cold sheath.

He went a pace or two, he went to meet his Lord,
And, as I said, his spirit looked like a clean sword,
And seeing him the naked trees began shivering,
And all the birds cried out aloud as it were late spring.

And the Lord came on, He came down, and saw

Written by a Non-Swearing Parson, and Dropped Out of His
Pocket
at Sam's Coffeehouse.

Facit indignatio versum.

And hast thou left old Jemmy in the lurch?
A plague confound the doctors of thy church!
Then to abandon poor Italian Molly —
Would I'd the firking of thy bum with holly!
Next to discard the virtuous prince of Wales,
How suits this with the honor of Versailles?
Fourthly, and lastly, to renounce the Turks,

And dost thou faithlessly abandon me?
Must thy cameleon phantasies depart?
Thy griefs, thy gladnesses, take wing and flee
The bower they builded in this lonely heart?
O, Summer of Existence, golden, glowing!
Can nought avail to curb thine onward motion?
In vain! The river of my years is flowing,
And soon shall mingle with the eternal ocean.

Extinguished in dead darkness lies the sun
That lighted up my shriveled world of wonder;
Those fairy bands Imagination spun
Around my heart have long been rent asunder.

And did you not hear of a mirth that befell
The morrow after a wedding day,
At carrying a bride at home to dwell?
And away to Twiver, away, away!

The quintain was set and the garlands were made,
'Tis pity old custom should ever decay;
And woe be to him that was horsed on a jade,
For he carried no credit away, away!

We met a consort of fiddle-de-dees,
We set them a-cock-horse, and made them to play

And deep-eyed children cannot long be children,
Knowing of nothing they grow up and die,
And all men go their ways upon the earth.

And bitter fruits are sweetened by and by,
And fall at night like dead birds to the floor,
And in a few days rot even where they lie.

And ever blows the wind, and evermore
A multitude of words we speak and hear,
And now are happy, and now tired and sore.

And roads run through the grass, and towns uprear
Their torch-filled toils, some menacingly live,
And some cadaverously dry and drear.

1. And canst thou, sinner, slight The call of love divine?
2. Wilt thou not cease to grieve The Spirit from thy breast,
Shall God with tenderness invite, And gain no thought of thine?
Till he thy wretched soul shall leave, With all thy sins oppressed?

3. Today, a pardoning God
Will hear the suppliant pray;
Today, a Saviour's cleansing blood
Will wash thy guilt away.

4. But, grace so dearly bought
If yet thou wilt despise,
Thy fearful doom, with vengeance fraught,
Will fill thee with surprise.

And can it be, that I should gain
An interest in the Saviour's blood?
Died he for me, who caused his pain,
For me, who him to death pursued?
Amazing Love! How can it be
That thou, my God, shouldst die for me?

'Tis Mystery all! the Immortal dies!
Who can explore his strange design?
In vain the first-born seraph tries
To sound the depths of love divine.
'Tis Mercy all! Let earth adore;
Let angel minds enquire no more.

He left his Father's throne above,
(So free, so infinite his Grace!)
Emptied himself of all but Love,

And Bidpai said:
while the clowns laugh
the corpse is dangling
like a windless flag
from the gallows,
the sun is white-haired in the sky.
It could well be, Dabshalim
that what we see with open eyes
comes sated with the blindness of the core.