Puslapio vaizdai
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And Time trips too! This moral means You then were midway in the teens

That I was crowning;

We never spoke, but when I smiled
At morn or eve, I know, dear child,
You were not frowning.

Each morning that we met, I think
One sentiment us two did link,
Not joy nor sorrow;

And then at eve, experience-taught,
Our hearts were lighter for the thought,
We meet to-morrow!

And you were poor, so poor! and why?
How kind to come, it was for my

Especial grace meant !

Had you a chamber near the stars,

A bird,

some treasured plants in jars,

About your casement?

Often I wander up and down,

When morning bathes the silent town

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I've seen some change since last we met A patient little seamstress yet,

On small wage striving,

Have you a Lilliputian Spouse?

And do you dwell in some doll's house?

Is baby thriving?

My heart grows chill can soul like thine Weary of this dear World of mine,

Have loosed its fetter,

To find a world, whose promised bliss
Is better than the best of this?-

And is it better?

Sometimes to Pall Mall I repair,
And see the damsels passing there;
But if I try to

To get one glance, they look discreet,
As though they 'd some one else to meet;
As have not I too?

Yet still I often think upon

Our many meetings, come and gone,

July - December!

Now let us make a tryst, and when,
Dear little soul, we meet again,
In some serener sphere, why then
Thy Friend remember.

VANITY FAIR.

VANITAS vanitatum has rung in the ears
Of gentle and simple for thousands of years;
The wail still is heard, yet its notes never scare
Either simple or gentle from Vanity Fair.

I often hear people abusing it, yet

There the young go to learn and the old to forget; The mirth may be feigning, the sheen may be glare, But the gingerbread's gilded in Vanity Fair.

Dives there rolls in his chariot, but mind

Ho is veerrith the lackeys behind;

To work, it ack,

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- are the Sweet-hearts aware

You triptaits them in Vanity Fair?

We saw them all go, and we something may learn
Of the harvest they reap when we see them return.
The tree was enticing, its branches are bare, —
Heigho for the promise of Vanity Fair.

That stupid old Dives, once honest enough,
His honesty sold for star, ribbon, and stuff;
And Joan's pretty face has been clouded with care
Since Jack bought her ribbons at Vanity Fair.

Contemptible Dives! too credulous Joan!
Yet we all have a Vanity Fair of our own;
My son, you have yours, but you need not despair ·
I own I've a weakness for Vanity Fair.

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Philosophy halts wise counsels are vain,
We go, we repent, we return there again;
To-night you will certainly meet with us there-
So come and be merry in Vanity Fair.

GERTRUDE'S NECKLACE.

As Gerty skipt from babe to girl,
Her necklace lengthened, pearl by pearl;
Year after year it grew, and grew,
For every birthday gave her two.
Her neck is lovely, soft and fair,
And now her necklace glimmers there.

So cradled, let it sink and rise,
And all her graces emblemize.
Perchance this pearl, without a speck,
Once was as warm on Sappho's neck;
Where are the happy, twilight pearls
That braided Beatricé's curls?

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She's fancy free, but sweeter far
Than many plighted maidens are:
Will Gerty smile us all away,
And still be Gerty? Who can say?

But let her wear her precious toy,
And I'll rejoice to see her joy:
Her bauble's only one degree
Less frail, less fugitive than we;

For time, ere long, will snap the skein,
And scatter all the pearls again.

THE OLD CRADLE.

AND this was your Cradle? Why surely, my Jenny,
Such slender dimensions go clearly to show

You were an exceedingly small picaninny
Some nineteen or twenty short summers ago.

Your baby-days flowed in a much-troubled channel;
I see you as then in your impotent strife,
A tight little bundle of wailing and flannel,
Perplexed with that newly-found fardel called Life.

To hint at an infantine frailty's a scandal;

Let bygones be bygones, and somebody knows It was bliss such a Baby to dance and to dandle, Your cheeks were so velvet, so rosy your toes.

Ay, here is your cradle; and Hope, a bright spirit,
With Love now is watching beside it, I know.
They guard the wee nest it was yours to inherit
Some nineteen or twenty short summers ago.

It is Hope gilds the future, Love welcomes it smiling; Thus wags the old world, therefore stay not to ask,

My future bids fair, is my future beguiling?

If masked, still it pleases - then raise not the mask.

Is Life a poor coil some would gladly be doffing?
He is riding post-haste who their wrongs will adjust;
For at most 't is a footstep from cradle to coffin
From a spoonful of pap to a mouthful of dust.

Then smile as your future is smiling, my Jenny;
I see you, except for those infantine woes,
Little changed since you were but a small picaninny —
Your cheeks were so dimpled, so rosy your toes!

Ay, here is your cradle, much, much to my liking, Though nineteen or twenty long winters have sped. But hark! as I'm talking there's six o'clock striking, — It is time JENNY'S BABY should be in its bed.

A GARDEN IDYLL.

There are plenty of roses (the patriarch speaks)
But alas not for me, on your lips and your cheeks;
Sweet Maiden, rose laden — enough and to spare-
Spare, O spare me the rose that you wear in your hair.

We have loitered and laughed in the flowery croft,
We have met under wintry skies;

Her voice is the dearest voice, and soft
Is the light in her wistful eyes;

It is sweet in the silent woods, among
Gay crowds, or in any place

To hear her voice, to gaze on her young
Confiding face.

For ever may roses divinely blow,

And wine-dark pansies charm

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