MY OLD ARM CHAIR.

My old Arm Chair! The wear and tear

Thou hast endured for me,

Long ere this time deserved a rhyme

Expressly made to thee.

When I thee bought, thy varnished coat

And well proportioned frame

My house adorned, and no one scorned

Thee Rocking Chair to name.

But since that day, my bairns in play,

Have tumbled thee about,

Till thou appears well struck with years,

And truly nigh worn out.

Dear to my heart — I'm loth to part

With such a well tried friend;

Yet even repairs to old arm chairs

Must some time have an end.

I've patched thee oft; and cushions soft

Those patches somewhat screen;

Still, thy poor arms — reft of paint's charms

Are scarce fit to be seen.

The rockers, too, I did renew —

Will hardly yield a rocking.

But out of sight to cast thee quite

Would, to my mind, be shocking.

I therefore say: Thou here shalt stay

As long as I remain;

And no neglect I can detect

Shall cause thee to complain.

Farewell, Arm Chair! thou canst not fare

Much worse than I have done;

For, by my pen, from fellow men

Large share of scorn I've won.