Puslapio vaizdai

You wind anon, a breathing-while,
Around AMANDA's brow ;-
Dost dream her then, O Volatile!
E'en such an one as thou?

Away! Her thoughts are not as thine. A sterner purpose fills

Her steadfast soul with deep design

Of baby bows and frills;

What care hath she for worlds without,
What heed for yellow sun,

Whose endless hopes revolve about
A planet, atat One

Away! Tempt not the best of wives; Let not thy garish wing

Come fluttering our Autumn lives With truant dreams of Spring! Away! Reseek thy "Flowery Land"; Be Buddha's law obeyed;

Lest Betty's undiscerning hand

Should slay . . . a future PRAED!





ONSIEUR the Curé down the street

Comes with his kind old face,

With his coat worn bare, and his straggling hair,

And his green umbrella-case.

You may see him

pass by the little "Grande Place,"

And the tiny "Hôtel-de-Ville";

He smiles, as he goes, to the fleuriste Rose,
And the pompier Théophile

He turns, as a rule, through the "Marché" cool, Where the noisy fish-wives call;

And his compliment pays to the " Belle Thérèse," As she knits in her dusky stall

There's a letter to drop at the locksmith's shop,
And Toto, the locksmith's niece,

Has jubilant hopes, for the Curé gropes
In his tails for a pain d'épice.

There's a little dispute with a merchant of fruit,

Who is said to be heterodox,

That will ended be with a "Ma foi, oui !"
And a pinch from the Curé's box.

There is also a word that no one heard
To the furrier's daughter Lou.;
And a pale cheek fed with a flickering red,
And a "Bon Dieu garde M'sieu!"

But a grander way for the Sous-Préfet,
And a bow for Ma'am'selle Anne;
And a mock "off-hat" to the Notary's cat,
And a nod to the Sacristan :-

For ever through life the Curé goes

With a smile on his kind old face

With his coat worn bare, and his straggling hair And his green umbrella-case.





IRSTLY thou, churl son of Janus,


Rough for cold, in drugget clad,

Com'st with rack and rheum to pain us ;Firstly thou, churl son of Janus.

Caverned now is old Sylvanus ;

Numb and chill are maid and lad.

After thee thy dripping brother,

Dank his weeds around him cling;

Fogs his footsteps swathe and smother,-
After thee thy dripping brother.
Hearth-set couples hush each other,
Listening for the cry of Spring.

Hark! for March thereto doth follow,
Blithe, a herald tabarded;
O'er him flies the shifting swallow,-
Hark! for March thereto doth follow.
Swift his horn, by holt and hollow,
Wakes the flowers in winter dead.

Thou then, April, Iris' daughter,

Born between the storm and sun; Coy as nymph ere Pan hath caught her,

Thou then, April, Iris' daughter.
Now are light, and rustling water;
Now are mirth, and nests begun.

May the jocund cometh after,

Month of all the Loves (and mine); Month of mock and cuckoo-laughter,May the jocund cometh after. Beaks are gay on roof and rafter; Luckless lovers peak and pine.

June the next, with roses scented,
Languid from a slumber-spell;
June in shade of leafage tented ;-
June the next, with roses scented.
Now her Itys, still lamented,
Sings the mournful Philomel.

Hot July thereafter rages,

Dog-star smitten, wild with heat; Fierce as pard the hunter cages,— Hot July thereafter rages.

Traffic now no more engages;

Tongues are still in stall and street.

August next, with cider mellow,

Laughs from out the poppied corn; Hook at back, a lusty fellow,August next, with cider mellow. Now in wains the sheafage yellow 'Twixt the hedges slow is borne.

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