And the whole sea plunged and fell on the shotshatter'd navy of Spain, And the little Revenge herself went down by the island crags To be lost evermore in the main. "Skins may differ, but affection Dwells in white and black the same."-Cowper. TWA WAS twelve o'clock, not twelve at night, Because the sun was shining bright And not the silver moon. A proper time for friends to call, Now when a female has a call But Pompey's spirit would not come But of all unexpected things So Phoebe screamed an awful scream That after black appearances, 'Oh, Phoebe dear! Oh, Phoebe dear! You think because I'm black I am Behind the heels of Lady Lambe I walked while I had breath; "No murder, though, I come to tell No Coroner, like a boatswain's mate, With his round dozen to find out Why I have died so black. "One Sunday, shortly after tea, My skin began to burn As if I had in my inside A heater, like the urn. They say I gathered all the wool "His Lordship for his Doctor sent, I wish that he had called him out, For though to physic he was bred, To make his post a sinecure He never cured at all! "The Doctor looked about my breast And then about my back, And then he shook his head and said, 'Your case looks very black.' And first he sent me hot cayenne "With madder and with turmeric, "Oh, Phoebe dear, what pain it was To sever every tie! You know black beetles feel as much "Alas! some happy, happy day, But sternly with that piebald match For now, like Pompe-double-i, I'm sleeping in my ashes! "And now farewell! a last farewell! And have but time enough to add In mourning crape and bombazine "Henceforth within my grave I rest, "Again, farewell, my Phoebe dear! As swans of sable hue.' From black to gray, from gray to nought The shape began to fade And, like an egg, though not so white, The Ghost was newly laid! |