by Robert Buchanan.
Originally published in The Argosy (Strahan & Co.) vol.2 #12 (Nov 1866).
'Twas a clear, cold, starry, silver night,
And the old year was a-dying;
Three pretty girls with melted lead
Sat gaily fortune-trying.
They dropt the lead in water clear,
With blushing palpitations,
And, as it hissed, with fearful hearts
They sought its revelations.
In the deep night, while all around
The snow is whitely falling;
Each pretty girl looks down to find
Her future husband's calling.
The eldest sees a castle bright,
Girt round by shrubland shady;
And, blushing bright, she feels in thought
A lady rich already.
The second sees a silver ship,
And bright and glad her face is;
O, she will have a skipper bold,
Grown rich in foreign places!
The younger sees a glittering crown,
And starts in. consternation;
For Molly is too meek to dream
Of reaching regal station.
And time went by, one maiden got
Her landsman, one her sailor—
The Lackey, of a country count,
The Skipper of a whaler!
And Molly has her crown, although
She unto few can show it—
Her crown is true-love fancy-wrought,
Her husband, a poor Poet!