I answer you. As feeling men Behave, in best romances, when And when, arrived so far, you say In tragic accents " Go," Then, Lydia, then . . . I still shall stay, And firmly answer-No. A GAGE D'AMOUR A GAGE D'AMOUR (HORACE, III. 8) "Martiis cælebs quid agam Kalendis CHARLES,-for it seems you wish to You wonder what could scare me so, With tragic air, I now replace This ancient web of yellow lace, Among whose faded folds the trace Friend of my youth, severe as true, To indigestion; I had forgotten it was there, A scarf that Some-one used to wear. Hinc illa lacrima,-so spare Your cynic question. Some-one who is not girlish now, Affects us keenly; Yet, trifling though my act appears, Your Sternes would make it ground for tears;— One can't disturb the dust of years, And smile serenely. "My golden locks" are gray and chill, For hers, let them be sacred still; But yet, I own, a boyish thrill Went dancing through me, Charles, when I held yon yellow lace; We shut our heart up, nowadays, Derisive pity; Alas, a nothing starts the spring; Laugh, if you like. The boy in me,-- The fresh young smile that shone when she, A GAGE D'AMOUR Once more we trod the Golden Way,- She twirled the flimsy scarf about Where we were bound no mortal knows, Well, well, the wisest bend to Fate. Its wonted station. Pass me the wine. To Those that keep The bachelor's secluded sleep Peaceful, inviolate, and deep, IT CUPID'S ALLEY A MORALITY O, Love's but a dance, Where Time plays the fiddle! See the couples advance,— O, Love's but a dance! A whisper, a glance, - "Shall rve twirl down the middle?" 0, Love's but a dance, Where Time plays the fiddle! T runs (so saith my Chronicler) A Babel filled with buzz and whirr, And, from an Arbour cool and green, |