TWO years have elapsed since the verse of S. W. | |
| Met your bright eyes like a fanciful gem; | |
| With that kind of stanza the muse will now trouble you, | |
| She often frolicks with one G. P. M. | |
| As New Year approaches, she whispers of coaches, | 5 |
| And lockets and broaches, without any end. | |
| Of sweet rosy pleasure, of joy without measure, | |
| And plenty of leisure to share with a friend. | |
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| ’Tis useless to speak of the gas-light so beautiful, 1 | |
| Shedding its beams through “the mist of the night.” | 10 |
| Eagles and tigers and elephants, dutiful, | |
| Dazzle the vision with columns of light. | |
| The lamb and the lion—ask editor Tryon, | |
| His word you’ll rely on—are seen near the Park, | |
| From which such lights flow out, as wind cannot blow out, | 15 |
| Yet often they go out, and all’s in the dark. | |
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| ’Tis useless to speak of the many civilities | |
| Shown to Fayette in this country of late, | |
| Or even to mention the splendid abilities | |
| Clinton possesses for ruling the state, | 20 |
| The Union of water and Erie’s bright daughter, | |
| Since Neptune has caught her they’ll sever no more; | |
| And Greece and her troubles (the rhyme always doubles) | |
| Have vanished like bubbles that burst on the shore. | |
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| ’Tis useless to speak of Broadway and the Bowery; | 25 |
| Both are improving and growing so fast! | |
| Who would have thought that old Stuyvesant’s dowery | |
| Would hold in its precincts a play-house at last! | |
| Well, wonder ne’er ceases, but daily increases, | |
| And pulling to pieces, the town to renew, | 30 |
| So often engages the thoughts of our sages, | |
| That when the fit rages what will they not do? | |
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| ’Tis useless to speak of the want of propriety | |
| In forming our city so crooked and long; | |
| Our ancestors, bless them, were fond of variety— | 35 |
| ’Tis naughty to say that they ever were wrong! | |
| Tho’ strangers may grumble and thro’ the street stumble, | |
| Take care they don’t tumble through crevices small, | |
| For trap-doors we’ve plenty, on side-walks and entry, | |
| And no one stands sentry to see they don’t fall. | 40 |
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| ’Tis useless to speak of the din that so heavily | |
| Fell on our senses as midnight drew near; | |
| Trumpets and bugles and conch-shells, so cleverly | |
| Sounded the welkin with happy New Year! | |
| With jew’s-harps and timbrels and musical thimbles, | 45 |
| Tin platters for cymbals, and frying-pans too; | |
| Dutch-ovens and brasses, and jingles and glasses, | |
| With reeds of all classes, together they blew! | |
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| For holy-day pleasure, why these are the times for it; | |
| Pardon me, then, for so trifling a lay; | 50 |
| This stanza shall end, if I can find rhymes for it— | |
| May you, dear patrons, be happy to-day! | |
| Tho’ life is so fleeting, and pleasure so cheating, | |
| That we are oft meeting with accidents here, | |
| Should Fate seek to dish you, oh then may the issue | 55 |
| Be what I now wish you—a Happy New Year. | |
