Melancholetta

With saddest music all day longShe soothed her secret sorrow:At night she sighed. "I fear 'twas wrongSuch cheerful words to borrow;Dearest, a sweeter, sadder songI'll sing to thee to-morrow."

I thanked her, but I could not sayThat I was glad to hear it:I left the house at break of day,And did not venture near itTill time, I hoped, had worn awayHer grief, for nought could cheer it!

My dismal sister! Couldst thou knowThe wretched home thou keepest!Thy brother, drowned in daily woe,Is thankful when thou sleepest;For if I laugh, however low,When thou'rt awake, thou weepest!

I took my sister t'other day(Excuse the slang expression)To Sadler's Wells to see the play,In hopes the new impressionMight in her thoughts, from grave to gay,Effect some slight digression.

I asked three friends of mine from townTo join us in our folly,Whose mirth, I thought, might serve to drownMy sister's melancholy:The lively Jones, the sportive Brown,And Robinson the jolly.

I need not tell of soup and fishIn solemn silence swallowed,The sobs, that ushered in each dishAnd its departure followed,Nor yet my suicidal wishTo be the cheese I hollowed.

Some desperate attempts were madeTo start a conversation;"Madam," the lively Jones essayed,"Which kind of recreation,Hunting or fishing, have you madeYour special occupation?"

Her lips curved downwards instantly,As if of india-rubber,"Hounds in full cry I like," said she,(Oh how I longed to snub her!)"Of fish, a whale 's the one for me,It is so full of blubber!"

The night's performance was 'King John:'"It 's dull," she wept, "and so-so!"Awhile I let her tears flow on,She said "they soothed her woe so!"At length the curtain rose upon'Bombastes Furioso.'

In vain I roared; in vain I triedTo rouse her into laughter:Her pensive glances wandered wideFrom orchestra to rafter—"Tier upon tier!" she said, and sighed;And silence followed after.