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John Bartlett (1820–1905). Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. 1919.

Charles Stuart Calverley 1831-1884 John Bartlett

    I have a liking old
For thee, though manifold
Stories, I know, are told
    Not to thy credit!
          Ode to Tobacco.
    I sit alone at present, dreaming darkly of a Dun.
          In the Gloaming.
    I can not sing the old songs now!
  It is not that I deem them low;
’T is that I can’t remember how
      They go.
    O my own, my beautiful, my blue-eyed!
  To be young once more and bite my thumb
At the world and all its cares with you, I’d
  Give no inconsiderable sum.
          First Love.
    The farmer’s daughter hath soft brown hair
  (Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)
And I met with a ballad, I can’t say where,
  That wholly consisted of lines like these.
    ’T was ever thus from childhood’s hour!
  My fondest hopes would not decay:
I never loved a tree or flower
  Which was the first to fade away. 1 
    Forever; ’t is a single word!
  Our rude forefathers deemed it two:
Can you imagine so absurd
      A view?
Note 1.
See Thomas Moore. The Fire Worshippers. Page 526. [back]