Puslapio vaizdai

Wind-shadows in the wheat;

A water-cart in the street;

The fringe of foam that girds
An islet's ferneries;

A green sky's minor thirds-
To live, I think of these!

Of ice and glass the tinkle,
Pellucid, silver-shrill,

Peaches without a wrinkle;
Cherries and snow at will
From china bowls that fill
The senses with a sweet
Incuriousness of heat;

A melon's dripping sherds;
Cream-clotted strawberries;
Dusk dairies set with curds-
To live, I think of these!

Vale-lily and periwinkle;
Wet stone-crop on the sill;
The look of leaves a-twinkle
With windlets clear and still;
The feel of a forest rill
That wimples fresh and fleet
About one's naked feet;

The muzzles of drinking herds;
Lush flags and bulrushes;

The chirp of rain-bound birds-
To live, I think of these!

In Merry


In Merry


Dark aisles, new packs of cards,
Mermaidens' tails, cool swards.
Dawn dews and starlit seas,

White marbles, whiter words-
To live, I think of these!


The Housekeeper

The frugal snail, with forecast of repose,
Carries his house with him where'er he goes;
Peeps out, and if there comes a shower of rain,
Retreats to his small domicile again.
Touch but a tip of him, a horn-'tis well,—
He curls up in his sanctuary shell.
He's his own landlord, his own tenant; stay
Long as he will, he dreads no Quarter Day.
Himself he boards and lodges; both invites
And feasts himself; sleeps with himself o' nights.
He spares the upholsterer trouble to procure
Chattels himself is his own furniture,
And his sole riches. Wheresoe'er he roam,-
Knock when you will,-he's sure to be at home.

The Monkey

Monkey, little merry fellow,
Thou art Nature's Punchinello;
Full of fun as Puck could be
Harlequin might learn of thee!

In the very ark, no doubt,
You went frolicking about;
Never keeping in your mind
Drowned monkeys left behind!
Have you no traditions-none,
Of the court of Solomon?
No memorial how you went
With Prince Hiram's armament?

Look now at him! slyly peep;
He pretends he is asleep!
Fast asleep upon his bed,
With his arm beneath his head.

Now that posture is not right,
And he is not settled quite;
There! that's better than before-
And the knave pretends to snore!

Ha! he is not half asleep:

See, he slyly takes a peep.

Monkey, though your eyes were shut,

You could see this little nut.

[blocks in formation]

In Merry

You shall have it, pigmy brother!
What, another! and another!
Nay, your cheeks are like a sack-
Sit down, and begin to crack.

There the little ancient man
Cracks as fast as crack he can!
Now good-bye, you merry fellow,

Nature's primest Punchinello.



No sun—no moon!

No morn-no noon-

No dawn-no dusk-no proper time of day

No sky-no earthly view

No distance looking blue—

No road-no street-no "t'other side the

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No end to any Row

No indications where the crescents go

No top to any steeple

No recognitions of familiar people—

No courtesies for showing 'em

No knowing 'em!

No traveling at all-no locomotion-
No inkling of the way-no notion-
"No go"-by land or ocean—

No mail-no post

No news from any foreign coast-

No park—no ring-no afternoon gentility—
No company-no nobility-

No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,

No comfortable feel in any member—

No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,

No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds-


In Merry


Captain Sword

Captain Sword got up one day,

Over the hills to march away,

Over the hills and through the towns,

They heard him coming across the downs,
Stepping in music and thunder sweet,

Which his drums sent before him into the street,
And lo! 'twas a beautiful sight in the sun;
For first came his foot, all marching like one,
With tranquil faces, and bristling steel,
And the flag full of honour as though it could

And the officers gentle, the sword that hold
'Gainst the shoulder, heavy with trembling gold,
And the massy tread, that in passing is heard,
Though the drums and the music say never a

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