Disaster

Charles Stuart Calverley (1831–1884)

’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!

The garden, where I used to delve

Short-frocked, still yields me pinks in plenty;

The pear-tree that I climbed at twelve,

I see still blossoming, at twenty.

I never nursed a dear gazelle.

But I was given a paroquet—

How I did nurse him if unwell!

He ’s imbecile but lingers yet.

He ’s green, with an enchanting tuft;

He melts me with his small black eye:

He ’d look inimitable stuffed,

And knows it—but he will not die!

I had a kitten—I was rich

In pets—but all too soon my kitten

Became a full-sized cat, by which

I ’ve more than once been scratched and bitten:

And when for sleep her limbs she curled

One day beside her untouched plateful,

And glided calmly from the world,

I freely own that I was grateful.

And then I bought a dog—a queen!

Ah, Tiny, dear departing pug!

She lives, but she is past sixteen,

And scarce can crawl across the rug.

I loved her beautiful and kind;

Delighted in her pert bow-wow:

But now she snaps if you don’t mind;

’T were lunacy to love her now.

I used to think, should e’er mishap

Betide my crumple-visaged Ti,

In shape of prowling thief, or trap,

Or coarse bull-terrier—I should die.

But ah! disasters have their use;

And life might e’en be too sunshiny:

Nor would I make myself a goose,

If some big dog should swallow Tiny.