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MY FAMILIAR.

GAIN I hear that creaking step!

A He's rapping at the door!

Too well I know the boding sound

That ushers in a bore.

I do not tremble when I meet

The stoutest of my foes,

But Heaven defend me from the friend

Who comes-but never goes!

He drops into my easy-chair,

And asks about the news;

He peers into my manuscript,

And gives his candid views;

MY FAMILIAR.

He tells me where he likes the line,

And where he's forced to grieve;

He takes the strangest liberties,—

But never takes his leave!

He reads my daily paper through
Before I've seen a word;

He scans the lyric (that I wrote),
And thinks it quite absurd;

He calmly smokes my last cigar,
And coolly asks for more;

He opens everything he sees—
Except the entry door!

He talks about his fragile health,
And tells me of the pains

He suffers from a score of ills

Of which he ne'er complains;

MY FAMILIAR.

And how he struggled once with Death

To keep the fiend at bay;

On themes like those away he goes

But never goes away!

He tells me of the carping words

Some shallow critic wrote;

And every precious paragraph

Familiarly can quote;

He thinks the writer did me wrong;
He'd like to run him through!

He says a thousand pleasant things

But never says

"Adieu !"

Whene'er he comes-that dreadful man-

Disguise it as I may,

I know that, like an autumn rain,

He'll last throughout the day.

"DO YOU THINK HE IS MARRIED?'

In vain I speak of urgent tasks;

In vain I scowl and pout;

A frown is no extinguisher

It does not put him out!

I mean to take the knocker off,
Put crape upon the door,

Or hint to John that I am gone
To stay a month or more.

I do not tremble when I meet

The stoutest of my foes,

But Heaven defend me from the friend

Who never, never goes!

"DO YOU THINK HE IS MARRIED ?”

ADAM, you are very pressing,

MA

And I can't decline the task;
With the slighest gift of guessing,
You would scarcely need to ask!

"DO YOU THINK HE IS MARRIED?"

Don't you see a hint of marriage

In his sober-sided face,

In his rather careless carriage,

And extremely rapid pace?

If he's not committed treason,
Or some wicked action done,

Can you see the faintest reason
Why a bachelor should run?

Why should he be in a flurry?
But a loving wife to greet

Is a circumstance to hurry

The most dignified of feet!

When afar the man has spied her,

If the grateful, happy elf

Does not haste to be beside her,

He must be beside himself!

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