IT stands in the corner yet, stately and tall, With a top that once shone like the sun. It whispers of muster-field, playhouse, and ball, Of gallantries, courtship, and fun. It is hardly the stick for the dude of to-day, He would swear it was deucedly plain, But the halos of memory crown its decay -- My grandfather's gold-headed cane. It could tell how a face in a circling calash Grew red as the poppies she wore, When a dandy stepped up with a swagger and dash And escorted her home to her door. How the beaux cried with jealousy, "Jove! what a buck!" As they glared at the fortunate swain, And the wand which appeared to have fetched him his luck -- My grandfather's gold-headed cane. It could tell of the rides in the grand yellow gig, When, from under a broad scuttle hat, The eyes of fair Polly were lustrous and big, And -- but no! would it dare tell of @3that?@1 Ah me! by those wiles that bespoke the coquette How many a suitor was slain! There was one, though, who conquered the foe when they met With the gleam of his gold-headed cane. Oh, the odors of lavender, lilac, and musk! They scent these old halls even yet; I can still see the dancers as down through the dusk They glide in the grave minuet. The small satin slippers, my grandmamma's pride, Long, long in the chest have they lain; Let us shake out the camphor and place them beside My grandfather's gold-headed cane. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RENEWAL by GLADYS NAOMI ARNOLD EUMARES by ASCLEPIADES OF SAMOS EPIGRAM by DECIMUS MAGNUS AUSONIUS VERSES TO A YOUNG FRIEND by BERNARD BARTON WEDNESDAY IN Y' HOLY WEEK by JOSEPH BEAUMONT DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: THE SLIGHT AND DEGENERATE NATURE OF MAN by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |