Impromptu In The Assize Court, Nottingham,

On seeing BRET HARTE come upon the Bench.

Thanks for an hour of laughing
    In a world that is growing old;
Thanks for an hour of weeping
    In a world that is growing cold;
For we who have wept with Dickens,
    And we who have laughed with Boz,
Have renewed the days of our childhood
    With his American Coz.

Horace Smith

Horace Smith was an English poet and novelist, known for his collaboration with his brother James Smith in writing parodies. The brothers published 'Rejected Addresses' in 1812, which humorously imitated contemporary poets and became highly popular. Horace was also a friend of Percy Bysshe Shelley and wrote various works, including novels that reflect his interest in social issues and history. His writing often combined wit with a keen social conscience.

Horace Smith

Prothalamion.

Horace Smith, Simple Poetry

My Boating Song.

Horace Smith, Simple Poetry

Prologue To A Charade. - "Damn-Ages."

Horace Smith, Simple Poetry

An Olde Lyric.

Horace Smith, Simple Poetry

English

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Impromptu In The Assize Court At Lincoln.

Sir W. Bovill was specially retained in an action for damages caused by the overflowing of the banks of the Witham. With great spirit he contended that the river had for three days flowed from the sea.

The moon in the valley of Ajalon
    Stood still at the word of the prophet;
But since certain "Essays" were written
    We don't think so very much of it.
Now, a prophet is raised up among us,
    Whose miracles none can gainsay;
For he spoke, and the great river Witham
    Flowed three days, uphill, the wrong way.

Horace Smith

Before the Curtain

Behind the footlights hangs the rusty baize,
A trifle shabby in the upturned blaze
Of flaring gas and curious eyes that gaze.

The stage, methinks, perhaps is none too wide,
And hardly fit for royal Richards stride,
Or Falstaffs bulk, or Denmarks youthful pride.

Ah, well! no passion walks its humble boards;
Oer it no king nor valiant Hector lords:
The simplest skill is all its space affords.

The song and jest, the dance and trifling play,
The local hit at follies of the day,
The trick to pass an idle hour away,

For these no trumpets that announce the Moor,
No blast that makes the heros welcome sure,
A single fiddle in the overture!

Bret Harte

Old Fashioned Fun

When that old joke was new,
    It was not hard to joke,
And puns we now pooh-pooh,
    Great laughter would provoke.

True wit was seldom heard,
    And humor shown by few,
When reign'd King George the Third,
    And that old joke was new.

It passed indeed for wit,
    Did this achievement rare,
When down your friend would sit,
    To steal away his chair.

You brought him to the floor,
    You bruised him black and blue,
And this would cause a roar,
    When your old joke was new.

                    W. M. Thackeray.

William Makepeace Thackeray

Ode - 'On A Distant Prospect' Of Making A Fortune.

Now the "rosy morn appearing"
Floods with light the dazzled heaven;
And the schoolboy groans on hearing
That eternal clock strike seven:-
Now the waggoner is driving
Towards the fields his clattering wain;
Now the bluebottle, reviving,
Buzzes down his native pane.

But to me the morn is hateful:
Wearily I stretch my legs,
Dress, and settle to my plateful
Of (perhaps inferior) eggs.
Yesterday Miss Crump, by message,
Mentioned "rent," which "p'raps I'd pay;"
And I have a dismal presage
That she'll call, herself, to-day.

Once, I breakfasted off rosewood,
Smoked through silver-mounted pipes -
Then how my patrician nose would
Turn up at the thought of "swipes!"
Ale, - occasionally claret, -
Graced my luncheon then:- and now
...

Charles Stuart Calverley

The Gentlemen Of Dickens

The gentlemen of Dickens
Were mostly very poor,
And innocent of grammar,
And of parentage obscure;
But rich or poor or thriving,
Of high or lowly birth,
The gentlemen of Dickens
Were the grandest on the earth.

The gentlemen of Dickens,
They wore no fancy names,
Like Reginald or Percy
Fitzgerald or FitzJames;
But names for fools to laugh at,
That sound like hob-nailed boots,
Like Newman Noggs and Knubbles,
Toodles and Mr Toots.

Theyd little save their kindness,
Their honesty and truth;
They mostly came embarrassed,
And stammering and uncouth;
But the gentlemen of Dickens,
Their women and their girls,
Could speak their minds if need be
To ladies and to earls.

But one who wore a title
A lesson, too, ...

Henry Lawson

To The Rev. A. A. In The Country From His Friend In London.

(AFTER HEINE.)

Thou little village curate,
    Come quick, and do not wait;
We'll sit and talk together,
    So sweetly tete-a-tete.

Oh do not fear the railway
    Because it seems so big--
Dost thou not daily trust thee
    Unto thy little gig.

This house is full of painters,
    And half shut up and black;
But rooms the very snuggest
    Lie hidden at the back.
            Come! come! come!

Horace Smith