Poems

Summary

‘This little bag’

This little bag I hope will prove

To be not vainly made—

For, if you thread & needle want

It will afford you aid.

And as we are about to part

T’will serve another end,

For when you look upon the Bag

You’ll recollect your freind.

Jan:^ry 1792.

‘Miss Lloyd has now sent to Miss Green’

Miss Lloyd has now sent to Miss Green,

As, on opening the box, may be seen,

Some yards of a Black Ploughman's Gauze,

To be made up directly, because

Miss Lloyd must in mourning appear—

For the death of a Relative dear—

Miss Lloyd must expect to receive

This license to mourn & to grieve,

Complete, e’re the end of the week—

It is better to write than to speak—

‘Happy the Lab’rer’

Miss J. Austen

Happy the Lab’rer in his Sunday Cloathes!—

In light-drab coat, smart waistcoat, well-darn’d Hose

And hat upon his head to Church he goes;—

As oft with conscious pride he downward throws

A glance upon the ample Cabbage rose

Which stuck in Buttonhole regales his nose,

He envies not the gayest London Beaux.—

In Church he takes his seat among the rows,

Pays to the Place the reverence he owes,

Likes best the Prayers whose meaning least he knows,

Lists to the Sermon in a softening Doze,

And rouses joyous at the welcome close.—

‘Oh! M^r. Best’

Oh! M^r. Best, you’re very bad

And all the world shall know it;

Your base behaviour shall be sung

By me, a tuneful Poet.—

You used to go to Harrowgate

Each summer as it came,

And why I pray should you refuse

To go this year the same?—

The way's as plain, the road's as smooth,

The Posting not increased;

You’re scarcely stouter than you were,

Not younger Sir at least.—

If e’er the waters were of use

Why now their use forego?

You may not live another year,

All's mortal here below.—

It is your duty M^r. Best

To give your health repair

Vain else your Richard's pills will be,

And vain your Consort's care.—

But yet a nobler Duty calls

You now towards the North.