MERRY, lark-like, merry, At the break of day, Polly meeteth Harry Coming down the way; And her lips, they quiver,

Mother wept, and father sigh’d; With delight a-glow Cried the lad, “To-morrow,” cried… “To the pit I go.” Up and down the place he sped,

A LITTLE brooklet trilled a son… As merry as the day was long, At which a music-hater stung To frenzy said: 'I’ll bind thy to… And quell thy merriment:' That…

WAS ever wretch in such a plight? I scramble on I know not whither! The witches are abroad to-night; Some wicked one has led me hither! ‘That’s just like you, you’ll have…

JUST let the Owl of Evil howl! To mourners of each rank and stati… I cry, Come troll the Golden Bow… And quaff with me one deep potatio… Each sparkling droplet to the soul

center A new song to an old tune. AWAY to the pic-nic at Ryton, aw… Went off in the sunrise our younke… And many were bonny and many were…

THE memories of moments flown, Into my spirit’s glass assemble; And as they enter, one by one, My heart-strings into music trembl… Even as the harp, the breezelet sw…

COME sing me the song that once… And the heart unsubdued till that… That with its red rose caused the… That long year after year without… With thy hand on my hand, and thy…

SHE took the wood thro’ which she… But in the lake near which she wen… An image met, and swayed and swung… And three times with her image ble… The vision from that mirror fled,

MY wee, wee fawn, you see me yawn… Well, I’m not much disposed to fl… And were I so, you rogue! you kno… You’re proof against the fiercest… You have an ear? of stone, my dear…

WILTED is the leaf, and blown By the cold wind up and down, That beheld thy promise fair, Maiden with the dark brown hair! Shatter’d is this heart, and hurl’…

UNKNIT that brow; the day too s… Departs when starry nights are nea… They’re clouded now, nor will the… Once come and try to make them cle… Be not like her, a peevish girl;—

I’M a-weary with care, I’m a-wear… Surrounded with woes that no morta… Whil’st I gaze on the night of my… Not a star to direct my lorn soul… I’m shorn of my strength and the f…

FROM the pipe-end off it glides, Many hued appearing; What, if cynic harsh derides, Sets the boys a-staring. In their eyes gleam its dyes,