I lost my focus,--dropped my book,--the bug, who was a flea,
At once exploded, and commenced experiments on me.
They have a certain heartiness that frequently appalls,--
Those mediaeval gentlemen in semilunar smalls!

"My boy," he said, (colloquial ways,--the vast, broad-hatted man,)
"Come dine with us on Thursday next,--you must, you know you can;
We're going to have a roaring time, with lots of fun and noise,
Distinguished guests, et cetera, the JUDGE, and all the boys."

Not so,--I said,--my temporal bones are showing pretty clear.
It 's time to stop,--just look and see that hair above this ear;
My golden days are more than spent,--and, what is very strange,
If these are real silver hairs, I'm getting lots of change.

Besides--my prospects--don't you know that people won't employ
A man that wrongs his manliness by laughing like a boy?
And suspect the azure blossom that unfolds upon a shoot,
As if wisdom's old potato could not flourish at its root?

It's a very fine reflection, when you 're etching out a smile
On a copperplate of faces that would stretch at least a mile,
That, what with sneers from enemies and cheapening shrugs of friends,
It will cost you all the earnings that a month of labor lends!

It's a vastly pleasing prospect, when you're screwing out a laugh,
That your very next year's income is diminished by a half,
And a little boy trips barefoot that Pegasus may go,
And the baby's milk is watered that your Helicon may flow!