The Poetry Corner

Long Meter.

By Eugene Field

All human joys are swift of wing For heaven doth so allot it That when you get an easy thing You find you haven't got it. Man never yet has loved a maid, But they were sure to part, sir; Nor never lacked a paltry spade But that he drew a heart, sir! Go, Chauncey! it is plain as day You much prefer a dinner To walking straight in wisdom's way-- Go to, thou babbling sinner. The froward part that you have played To me this lesson teaches: To trust no man whose stock in trade Is after-dinner speeches.