It almost makes me wish, I vow,

To have two stomachs, like a cow!”
And, lo! as with the cud, an inward thrill
Upheaved his waistcoat and disturbed his frill,
His mouth was oozing and he worked his jaw
"I almost think that I could eat one raw!"

And thus, as "inward love breeds outward talk,"
The portly pair continued to discourse ;

And then

as Gray describes of life's divorce

With "longing, lingering look" prepared to walk,Having through one delighted sense, at least,

Enjoyed a sort of Barmecidal feast,

And with prophetic gestures, strange to see,
Forestalled the civic banquet yet to be,
Its callipash and callipee!

A pleasant prospect --but, alack!
Scarcely each Alderman had turned his back,
When, seizing on the moment so propitious,
And having learned that they were so delicious
To bite and sup,

From praises so high flown and injudicious, --
And nothing could be more pernicious!
The Turtles fell to work, and ate each other up!.

Moral.

Never, from folly or urbanity,

Praise people thus profusely to their faces,
Till, quite in love with their own graces,
They're eaten up by vanity!

LOVE LANE.

IF I should love a maiden more,
And woo her every hope to crown,
I'd love her all the country o'er,
But not declare it out of town.

One even, by a mossy bank,
That held a hornet's nest within,
To Ellen on my knees I sank,

How snakes will twine around the shin!

A bashful fear my soul unnerved,
And gave my heart a backward tug;
Nor was I cheered when she observed,
Whilst I was silent, "What a slug!

At length my offer I preferred,
And Hope a kind reply forebode -
Alas! the only sound I heard

Was,

"What a horrid ugly toad!

I vowed to give her all my heart,
To love her till my life took leave,
And painted all a lover's smart
Except a wasp gone up his sleeve!

But when I ventured to abide
Her father's and her mother's grants --
Sudden she started up and cried,
"O dear! I am all over ants!"

Nay, when beginning to beseech
The cause that led to my rebuff,

The answer was as strange a speech
A "Daddy-Longlegs, sure enough!"

I spoke of fortune --- house, and lands, And still renewed the warm attack,"Tis vain to offer ladies hands

That have a spider on the back!

'Tis vain to talk of hopes and fears,
And hope the least reply to win,
From any maid that stops her ears
In dread of earwigs creeping in!

'Tis vain to call the dearest names
Whilst stoats and weasels startle by-
As vain to talk of mutual flames
To one with glowworms in her eye!

What checked me in my fond address, And knocked each pretty image down? What stopped my Ellen's faltering yes? A caterpillar on her gown!

To list to Philomel is sweet
To see the moon rise silver-pale,
But not to kneel at lady's feet
And crush a rival in a snail!

Sweet is the eventide, and kind
Its zephyr, balmy as the south;
But sweeter still to speak your mind
Without a chafer in your mouth!

At last, emboldened by my bliss,
Still fickle.Fortune played me foul,

For when I strove to snatch a kiss

She screamed

by proxy, through an owl!

Then, lovers, doomed to life or death,
Shun moonlight, twilight, lanes and bats,
Lest you should have in self-same breath
To bless your fate

and curse the gnats!

DOMESTIC POEMS.

"It's hame, hame, hame." -A. CUNNINGHAM,

"There's no place like home.”

I.

CLARI.

HYMENEAL RETROSPECTIONS.

O KATE! my dear partner, through joy and through strife!

When I look back at Hymen's dear day,

Not a lovelier bride ever changed to a wife,

Though you're now so old, wizened, and gray!

Those eyes, then, were stars, shining rulers of fate!
But as liquid as stars in a pool;

Though now they're so dim, they appear, my dear Kate,
Just like gooseberries boiled for a fool!

That brow was like marble, so smooth and so fair;
Though it's wrinkled so crookedly now,

As if Time, when those furrows were made by the share,
Had been tipsy whilst driving his plough!

Your nose,

it was such as the sculptors all chose, When a Venus demanded their skill;

Though now it can hardly be reckoned a nose,
But a sort of Poll-Parroty bill !

Your mouth, it was then quite a bait for the bees,
Such a nectar there hung on each lip;

Though now it has taken that lemon-like squeeze,
Not a blue-bottle comes for a sip!

Your chin, it was one of Love favorite haunts,
From its dimple he could not get loose;
Though now the neat hand of a barber it wants,
Or a singe, like the breast of a goose!

How rich were those locks, so abundant and full,
With their ringlets of auburn so deep!
Though now they look only like frizzles of wool,
By a bramble torn off from a sheep!

That neck, not a swan could excel it in grace,
While in whiteness it vied with your arms:
Though now a grave 'kerchief you properly place,
To conceal that scrag-end of your charms!

Your figure was tall, then, and perfectly straight,
Though it now has two twists from upright
But bless you! still bless you! my partner! my Kate!
Though you be such a perfect old fright!

II.

THE sun was slumbering in the west, my daily labors

past;

On Anna's soft and gentle breast my head reclined at

last!

The darkness closed around, so dear to fond congenial

souls ;

And thus she murmured at my ear, "My love, we're out of coals!

"That Mister Bond has called again, insisting on his

rent;