William Makepeace Thackeray Poems

The play is done; the curtain drops,
Slow falling to the prompter's bell:
A moment yet the actor stops,
...

Tink-a-tink, tink-a-tink,
By the light of the star,
On the blue river's brink,
I heard a guitar.
...

I paced upon my beat
With steady step and slow,
All huppandownd of Ranelagh Street:
Ran'lagh St. Pimlico.
...

In tattered old slippers that toast at the bars,
And a ragged old jacket perfumed with cigars,
Away from the world, and its toils and its cares,
I've a snug little kingdom up four pair of stairs.
...

The rose upon my balcony the morning air perfuming,
Was leafless all the winter time and pining for the spring;
...

Wearied arm and broken sword
Wage in vain the desperate fight:
Round him press a countless horde,
...

Where the quivering lightning flings
His arrows from out the clouds,
And the howling tempest sings
And whistles among the shrouds,
...

Dear Lucy, you know what my wish is, --
I hate all your Frenchified fuss:
Your silly entrées and made dishes
Were never intended for us.
...

O SIGNOR BRODERIP, you are a wickid ole man,
You wexis us little horgin-boys whenever you can:
How dare you talk of Justice, and go for to seek
...

'I am Miss Catherine's book,' the album speaks;
'I've lain among your tomes these many weeks;
I'm tired of their old coats and yellow cheeks.
...