Classic Poem

A YOUNGSTER in the Regent's time
One day poured out his heart in rhyme
And slipped the manuscript between
" Ye Sermons of Sylvanus Greene, "
For there I found it,
As walking through dark woods and chill
One comes upon a daffodil
With sunshine round it.
What of the writer? Dust so long,
The heart and hand that made his song
To Kate or Nancy;
Naught but a lyric, faded, dim,
To give a ghostly glimpse of him —
Still, let us fancy
That, losing Romance from his state,
He took Ambition for a mate,
At her dictation
Forsook the Muse and travelled far,
Say — studied law, attained the bar,
Gained wealth and station;

In time achieved the wig and gown
And graced the bench in London town,
No judge empiric.
His people never knew, 'tis said,
The reason why he died unwed;
But here's his lyric:

" O joy, sing joy, I sent my Love a posy,
She took it and she kissed it and she wore it on her breast,
All the world was happiness and all the clouds were rosy,
And I thought about the Parson who could read the service best.

" O sing sorrow, I sent my Love a posy
With never mark nor sign thereon to show the owner's name.
But now I wish had gone with it a billet rhymed or prosy,
For that she gave another thanks who bowed and took the same.

" O woe, sing woe, I sent my Love a posy,
And all the good it might have done another hath possessed.
And now she's walking out with him, contented all and cozy,
And no one knows 'tis my heart that is fading on her breast. "