Come my little Robert near— Fie! what filthy hands are here! Who that e’er could understand The rare structure of a hand, With its branching fingers fine,

On a bank with roses shaded, Whose sweet scent the violets aide… Violets whose breath alone Yields but feeble smell or none, (Sweeter bed Jove ne’er repos’d o…

Friend of my earliest years and ch… My joys, my sorrows, thou with me… Companion dear, and we alike have… (Poor pilgrims we) through life’s… It were unwisely done, should we r…

While young John runs to greet The greater Infant’s feet, The Mother standing by, with trem… Of devout admiration, Beholds the engaging mystic play,…

My parents sleep both in one grave… My only friend’s a brother. The dearest things upon the earth We are to one another. A fine stout boy I knew him once,

Did I hear the church—clock a few… I was asked, and I answered, I ha… But I thought that I heard it str… Said my friend then, ‘The blessin… We know not the want of, and prize…

Alone, obscure, without a friend, A cheerless, solitary thing, Why seeks, my Lloyd, the stranger… What offering can the stranger bri… Of social scenes, home—bred deligh…

'Why so I will, you noisy bird, This very day I’ll advertise you, Perhaps some busy ones may prize y… A fine—tongued parrot as was ever… I’ll word it thus—set forth all ch…

A sparrow, when sparrows like parr… Addressed an old hen who could tal… Said he, 'It’s unjust that we spa… Our food, when your family’s fed e… ‘Were you like the peacock, that e…

This rose—tree is not made to bear The violet blue, nor lily fair, Nor the sweet mignonette: And if this tree were discontent, Or wished to change its natural be…

'I’ll make believe, and fancy some… I will suppose I have the power t… And make all things unlike to what… To jump through windows and fly th… And quite confound all places and…

O why your good deeds with such pr… And why that self—satisfied smile At the shilling you gave to the po… That lifted you over the stile? 'Tis not much; all the bread that…

Ye Politicians, tell me, pray, Why thus with woe and care rent? This is the worst that you can say… Some wind has blown the wig away, And left the hair apparent.

SISTER. Through the house what busy joy, Just because the infant boy Has a tiny tooth to show. I have got a double row,

Why is your mind thus all day long Upon your music set; Till reason’s swallowed in a song, Or idle canzonet? I grant you, Melesinda, when