BUBBLES.
There are blowers of bubbles, whose names might be told,
Did we not deem it wiser the same to withhold;
Since the sport which so pleases in life's early stage,
A charm hath for manhood, for youth, and for age.
Did we not deem it wiser the same to withhold;
Since the sport which so pleases in life's early stage,
A charm hath for manhood, for youth, and for age.
A grave politician blows bubbles so large,
They float o'er his mind like some gay Venice barge;
While a shrewd-looking captain sits guiding the helm,
Who smiles as he sees himself peer of the realm.
They float o'er his mind like some gay Venice barge;
While a shrewd-looking captain sits guiding the helm,
Who smiles as he sees himself peer of the realm.
The scene is soon changed to a sorrowful sight,
That bubble has burst, every smile of last night
Has gone from the lip, like the stars from the sky—
There is naught left the blower but one wish—to die.
That bubble has burst, every smile of last night
Has gone from the lip, like the stars from the sky—
There is naught left the blower but one wish—to die.
