I need you, my darling, my darling,
With its yearning my very heart aches;
The load that divides us weighs harder,

I shrink from the jar that it makes.
Old sorrows rise up to beset me.

Old doubts make my spirit their own, Oh, come through the darkness and save me; For I am alone.

A Roundelay

BY PETER A. MOTTEUX.

Man is for woman made,
And woman made for men:
As the spur is for the jade,
As the scabbard for the blade,
As for liquor is the can,
So man's for woman made,
And woman made for man.

As the sceptre to be sway'd,
As to night the serenade,
As for pudding is the pan,
As to cool us is the fan,
So man's for woman made,
And woman made for man.

Be she widow, wife, or maid,
Be she wanton, be she staid,
Be she well or ill array'd,
So man's for woman made,
And woman made for man.

An Original Love Song

ANONYMOUS.

He struggled to kiss her. She struggled the same
To prevent him so bold and undaunted.

But, as smitten by lightning, he heard her exclaim,
"Avaunt, sir!" and off he avaunted.

But when he returned with a wild fiendish laugh,
Showing clearly that he was affronted,

And threaten'd by main force to carry her off,
She cried "Don't!" and the poor fellow donted.

When he meekly approached, and sat down at her feet,
Praying loudly, as before he had ranted,

That she would forgive him, and try to be sweet,
And said "Can't you!" the dear girl recanted.

Then softly he wispered, "How could you do so?
I certainly thought I was jilted;

But come thou with me, to the parson we'll go;
Say, wilt thou, my dear?" and she wilted.

Song

BY JOSEPH ADDISON.

Echo, tell me, while I wander
O'er this fairy plain to prove him,
If my shepherd still grows fonder,
Ought I in return to love him?
Echo Love him, love him!

If he loves, as is the fashion,

Should I churlishly forsake him?
Or in pity to his passion,

Fondly to my bosom take him?
Echo: Take him, take him!

Thy advice then I'll adhere to,
Since in Cupid's chains I've led him;
And with Henry shall not fear to
Marry, if you answer, "Wed him!"
Echo: Wed him, wed him!

Night and Morning

BY EUGENE FIELD.

Low hanging in a cloud of burnished gold,

The sleepy sun lay dreaming;

And where, pearl-wrought, the Orient gates unfold,

Wide ocean realms were gleaming.

Within the night he rose and stole away,

And, like a gem adorning,

Blazed o'er the sea upon the breast of day,—

And everywhere was morning.

Sally in our Alley

BY HENRY CAREY.

Of all the girls that are so smart!
There's none like pretty Sally;

She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.

There is no lady in the land
Is half so sweet as Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.

Her father he makes cabbage nets,

And through the street does cry 'em;

Her mother she sells laces long

To such as please to buy 'em;

But shure such folks could ne'er beget
So sweet a girl as Sally!

She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley.

Of all the days that's in the week

I dearly love but one day

And that's the day that comes betwixt
A Saturday and Monday;

For then I'm drest all in my best
To walk abroad with Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.

My master carries me to church,
And often am I blamed
Because I leave him in the lurch
As soon as text is named;

I leave the church in sermon time
And slink away to Sally;

She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.

The "Old, Old Song"

BY CHARLES KINGSLEY.

When all the world is young, lad, and all the trees are

are green;

And every goose a swan, lad, and every lass a queen; Then hey for boot and horse, lad, and round the world

away;

Young blood must have its course, lad, and every dog its day.

When all the world is old, lad, and all the trees are

brown;

And all the sport is stale, lad, and all the wheels run

down;

Creep home and take your place there, the spent and maimed among;

God grant you find one face there you loved when all was young.

A Trip to Toy-Land

And how do you get to Toy-land?
To all little people the joy-land.
Just follow your nose

And go on tip-toes,

It's only a minute to Toy-land.

And ho! but it's gay in Toy-land,
This bright, merry, girl-and-boy-land,
And woolly dogs white

That never will bite,

You'll meet on the highways in Toy-land.

Society's fine in Toy-land,

The dollies all think it a joy-land,
And folks in the ark
Stay out after dark

And tin soldiers regulate Toy-land.

There's fun all the year in Toy-land,
To sorrow 'twas ever a coy-land;

And steamers are run,

And steam-cars, for fun,

They're wound up with keys down in Toy-land.

Bold jumping-jacks thrive in Toy-land;
Fine castles adorn this joy-land;

And bright are the dreams

And sunny the beams

That gladden the faces in Toy-land.

How long do you live in Toy-land?
This bright, merry, girl-and-boy-land?
A few days, at best,

We stay as a guest,

Then good-by, forever, to Toy-land!

*From "A Little Book of Tribune Verse by Eugene Field," edited by Joseph G. Brown. Tandy, Wheeler & Co., Denver.