"VITAS HINNULEO" You shun me, Chloe, wild and shy As some stray fawn that seeks its mother Through trackless woods. If spring-winds sigh. It vainly strives its fears to smother ;— Its trembling knees assail each other When lizards stir the bramble dry;— And yet no Libyan lion I,— No ravening thing to rend another; Lay by your tears, your tremors byA Husband's better than a brother; Nor shun me, Chloe, wild and shy As some stray fawn that seeks its mother "ON LONDON STONES" N London stones I sometimes sigh ΟΝ For wider green and bluer sky;— Then comes the spring,-the months go by, In vain!--the woods, the fields deny Mine is an urban Muse, and bound х FA "FAREWELL, RENOWN!" AREWELL, Renown! Too fleeting flower, Too often trodden under feet,— Why should I court your "barren dower "? Nay; had I Dryden's angry power,- Farewell!-Because the Muses' bower Because, howe'er his pipe be sweet, The Bard, that "pays," must please the street ;But most... because the grapes are sour,— Farewell, Renown! "MORE POETS YET!” (TO J. L. W.) "MORE Poets yet!"—I hear him say, Arming his heavy hand to slay ;— "Despite my skill and 'swashing blow,' They seem to sprout where'er I go ;I killed a host but yesterday!" Slash on, O Hercules! You may. Your task 's, at best, a Hydra-fray; And though you cut, not less will grow Too arrogant! For who shall stay The first blind motions of the May? Who shall out-blot the morning glow ?--- Who? There will rise, till Time decay, More Poets yet! “WITH PIPE AND FLUTE" (TO E. G.) ITH pipe and flute the rustic Pan WITH Of old made music sweet for man; And wonder hushed the warbling bird, And closer drew the calm-eyed herd,The rolling river slowlier ran. Ah would,-ah! would, a little span, But now for gold we plot and plan; Apollo's self might pass unheard, Or find the night-jar's note preferred;-Not so it fared, when time began, With pipe and flute ! |