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She pats the Pony, where or when
The little Pony glad may be,
But he is milder far than she,
"Oh! Johnny, never mind the Doctor; You've done your best, and that is all." She took the reins, when this was said, And gently turned the Pony's head From the loud water-fall.
By this the stars were almost gone,
Though yet their tongues were still.
The Pony, Betty, and her Boy,
Wind slowly through the woody dale; And who is she, be-times abroad,
That hobbles up the steep rough road? Who is it, but old Susan Gale?
Long Susan lay deep lost in thought,
Both for her Messenger and Nurse;
And as her mind grew worse and worse,
Her body it grew better.
She turned, she tossed herself in bed,
On all sides doubts and terrors met her;
Point after point did she discuss;
And while her mind was fighting thus,
Her body still grew better.
"Alas! what is become of them?
These fears can never be endured,
I'll to the wood."-The word scarce said,
Away she posts up hill and down,
She spies her Friends, she shouts a greeting;
Oh me! it is a merry meeting,
As ever was in Christendom.
The Owls have hardly sung their last,
And with the Owls must end.
For, while they all were travelling home,
Now Johnny all night long had heard
And thus, to Betty's question, he
Made answer, like a Traveller bold,
(His very words I give to you,)
"The Cocks did crow to-whoo, to-whoo,
And the Sun did shine so cold."
-Thus answered Johnny in his glory,
And that was all his travel's story.
All Thoughts, all Passions, all Delights, Whatever stirs this mortal Frame,
All are but ministers of Love,
And feed his sacred flame.
Oft in my waking dreams do I
Live o'er again that happy hour,
When midway on the Mount I lay
The Moonshine stealing o'er the scene Had blended with the Lights of Eve; And she was there, my Hope, my Joy, My own dear Genevieve!