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And bore him sourly off, despite
The girl stood silent, with a look
Then, with a sudden gesture took
The torn doll from the gravel; Hid the whole face, with one caress,
Under the garden-bonnet,
Exeunt omnes. End of play.
It made the dull room brighter, The Gladiator almost gay,
And e'en "The Lancet " lighter.
AN AUTUMN IDYLL.
"Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song."
HERE, where the beech-nuts drop among the grasses,
Push the boat in, and throw the rope ashore.
Jack, hand me out the claret and the glasses;
Here let us sit. We landed here before.
Jack's undecided. Say, formose puer,
There by the pollards, where you see the swan?
Hist! That's a pike. Look-nose against the river
FRANK (in the grass).
Jove, what a day! Black Care upon the crupper
Sing to us then. Damotas in a choker,
Sing you again. So musical a croaker
Sing while you may. The beard of manhood still is Faint on your cheeks, but I, alas! am old. Doubtless you yet believe in Amaryllis ;—
Sing me of Her, whose name may not be told.
Listen, O Thames! His budding beard is riper,
Yes, if you will. But ere I play the piper,
Hear then, my Shepherds. Lo, to him accounted
Lordly the gift. O Muse of many numbers,
Me too, O Muse! And when the Umpire slumbers, Sting him with gnats a summer evening long.
Not in a cot, begarlanded of spiders,
Not where the brook traditionally "purls,' No, in the Row, supreme among the riders, Seek I the gem,-the paragon of girls.
Not in the waste of column and of coping,
Dark-haired is mine, with splendid tresses plaited
Dark-haired is mine, with breezy ripples swinging
Best is the song with music interwoven :
Mine's a musician,-musical at heart,— Throbs to the gathered grieving of Beethoven, Sways to the light coquetting of Mozart.
Best? You should hear mine trilling out a ballad,
Not too divine to toss you up a salad,
Great in Sir Roger danced among the trees.
Ah, when the thick night flares with drooping torches, Ah, when the crush-room empties of the swarm,