SHE is not fashioned to command, Nor once, for grace, in her is sho… A form that peers the lily-wand— An air the lily’s self might own; Not such her vaunt, tho’ such ench…

O, MY Spirit, art thou vanquisht… Is thy latest prospect gone? Must my task be thus relinquisht Ere my noble end is won? Must I die, and be remember’d

THE DITTY. O, BECKY SHARP, dear Becky S… So very clever and so witty; I’m half inclined your praise to h… In one, at least, well-worded ditt…

MEG MILLER skipt over to Hort… And sang as she went like the lark… ‘A pair of bright eyes hath Tim M… Yet not his the blink of Kit Clar… ’Bob Harkas hath hair crisp and c…

THEY cry, ‘How light the heart a… From which proceed such strains of gladness!’ They can’t discern the pangs that… And seek to drive the bard to madn…

A CLOUD the valley domes, and d… Yon erewhile sun-lit mountain stea… And bit by bit, with one black fro… The green and gold below concealed… Down, down it comes, and pain me n…

How long shall injustice prevail? How long shall the weak rue the st… The children of Poland bewail The yoke of the Russian?—How long… Lo! one generation goes by,

MUST all the passion which I’ve… So long to hide be paid with scorn… And must a bosom framed for love, Be doomed a hopeless love to mourn… And must thou still its homage spu…

LA, what a Night! The hag has… In hue to prove a chimla sweeper; And did the North not blow his ho… No star would dare to show its pee… How black her look!—(Just like th…

Last night at the Fair did I lose… I hunted thee south and I hunted… I’d rather than lost thee have los… That all the great lords in the ki… Heart-sorry in worry and flurry di…

‘LOVE’S a pleasure, love’s a tre… Why the joys of love withstand?’ Alf so pleadeth, Effie heedeth And—What ails the lily-wand? Lighter grow her airs and lighter—

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…

IN trumpet-toned accents I heard A voice in a vision to cry;— ‘By threat of no tyrant deterred, We rear up our banner on high. ‘No longer, tho’ feeble and poor,

A GOLDEN sun went down to-night… When lo! a vision from the olden Time, flashed on my inner sight, With smiles more tender and as gol… My blood ran cold; for I did know

HE’S not the bird I took him for… I heard him in the distance scream… And tho’ his voice was harsh, that… I dream’d of glories, golden, glea… This hour he meets my closer view;