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…

UPON a steed he came with speed, The Day behind him breaking; And still he sped when Day o’erhe… Her last farewell was taking. ‘Ah, whither fliest?—Name thy goa…

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

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

‘SAY, whither goes my buxom maid All with the coal-black e’e?’ ‘Before I answer that,’ she said, ‘Give ear, and answer me. ’Pray, hast thou e’er thy counsel…

(Suggested by an old verse.) THRO’ the dark and dreary night, Golden slumbers kiss thine eyes; Sleep, and in the early light With a golden smile arise!

THRICE ‘Iö Pæan!’ let me cry, And bless the hour that I was bor… And born thro’ love in vain to sig… To cheer my longing heart a morn Has risen in my ebon sky,

SHE took the oars and rowed along With such a grace, the mere did wa… Into a sweet, melodious song, At every charming stroke was taken… And at each sound, the hills aroun…

MY love at Seaton Terrace dwells… A hale and hearty wight, Who lilts away the summer day, Also the winter night: The merriest bird with rapture sti…

BEWILDERED by Life’s Gordian… Despair had flung her adamantine c… When thro’ the abyss of my spirit… A deep voice cried, and “Glory!”… “A spark eternal from the co-etern…

DON’T spur us so: you’ll ever fi… When you will ride at giddy paces There’s always something in the wi… At which ere long you’ll twist you… What, we’re but steeds whom no one…

‘NOT now shall I sing of my spor… But the golden hours and gay,’ Sang the Breeze, ‘when I, a wild… With the Summer flowers to play. ’When I tiptoe go to the pansy, t…

SHE snapt her fingers, on her hee… Her sweet boot-heel, she turned an… What did I feel?—What could I fe… At what of paradise had reft me? I swooning lay; my soul away

THE devil and the devil’s brood Around a boiling caldron hung, While in a nook in merry mood Grim Death a dainty ditty sung; For guided by a baleful star

WHAT is man? The question flow… From the lips with ease, and yet He who best could answer knoweth Answer true were hard to get: Not the Sphinx in Egypt olden,