20
POEMS.
She dwelt in a small town, 'tis now a city—
That time will work such changes, more's the pity—
Alas! for romance, when the conquering car
Of Progress doth such quiet beauty mar.
That time will work such changes, more's the pity—
Alas! for romance, when the conquering car
Of Progress doth such quiet beauty mar.
Now, if at sunset through some shady grove
Young maidens with their lovers chance to rove
To some sequestered spot, they're sure to hear
A factory wheel or locomotive near.
Young maidens with their lovers chance to rove
To some sequestered spot, they're sure to hear
A factory wheel or locomotive near.
Dost ask this old friend's name? Guess what you will—
A flower still blooms, exhales its fragrance still,
Though we should call it violet, daisy, rose,
Or any plant which in our garden grows,
A flower still blooms, exhales its fragrance still,
Though we should call it violet, daisy, rose,
Or any plant which in our garden grows,
We called her Fanny, and in days of yore
She might have numbered suitors half a score,
If bright blue eyes and cheeks of rosy hue
Have any power man's hard heart to subdue.
She might have numbered suitors half a score,
If bright blue eyes and cheeks of rosy hue
Have any power man's hard heart to subdue.
In early life she learned the useful art,
A dress to make, from this she "took a start;"
And daily went for fifty years her round.
Till all confessed her good works did abound.
A dress to make, from this she "took a start;"
And daily went for fifty years her round.
Till all confessed her good works did abound.
