MY LOVE AND MY HEART

Он, the days were ever shiny
When I ran to meet my love;
When I press'd her hand so tiny
Through her tiny tiny glove.
Was I very deeply smitten?

Oh, I loved like anything!

But my love she is a kitten,
And my heart's a ball of string.

She was pleasingly poetic,

And she loved my little rhymes;
For our tastes were sympathetic,
In the old and happy times.
Oh, the ballads I have written,

And have taught my love to sing!

But my love she is a kitten,

And my heart's a ball of string.

Would she listen to my offer,

On my knees I would impart A sincere and ready proffer

Of my hand and of my heart. And below her dainty mitten

I would fix a wedding ringBut my love she is a kitten,

And my heart's a ball of string.

Take a warning, happy lover,
From the moral that I show;
Or too late you may discover
What I learn'd a month ago.
We are scratch'd or we are bitten
By the pets to whom we cling.
Oh, my love she is a kitten,
And my heart's a ball of string.

Henry S. Leigh.

Quite by Chance

205

QUITE BY CHANCE

SHE flung the parlour window wide
One eve of mid-July,

And he, as fate would have it tide,
That moment sauntered by.

His eyes were blue and hers were brown,
With drooping fringe of jet;

And he looked up as she looked down,
And so their glances met.

Things as strange, I dare to say,
Happen somewhere every day.

A mile beyond the straggling street,
A quiet pathway goes;

And lovers here are wont to meet,
As all the country knows.
Now she one night at half-past eight
Had sought that lonely lane,
When he came up, by will of fate,
And so they met again.

Things as strange, I dare to say,
Happen somewhere every day.

The parish church, so old and gray,
Is quite a sight to see;

And he was there at ten one day,
And so, it chanced, was she.
And while they stood, with cheeks aflame,
And neighbours liked the fun,

In stole and hood the parson came,
And made the couple one.

Things as strange, I dare to say,
Happen somewhere every day.

Frederick Langbridge.

THE NUN

SUGGESTED BY PART OF THE ITALIAN SONG, BEGINNING
MONECA TI FAI."

I

IF you become a nun, dear,

A friar I will be;

In any cell you run, dear,
Pray look behind for me.
The roses all turn pale, too;
The doves all take the veil, too;

The blind will see the show:

What! you become a nun, my dear!
I'll not believe it, no.

II

If you become a nun, dear,
The bishop Love will be;
The Cupids every one, dear,

Will chaunt "We trust in thee ";

The incense will go sighing,

The candles fall a dying,

The water turn to wine:

What! you go take the vows, my dear!

You may-but they'll be mine.

THE CHEMIST TO HIS LOVE

I LOVE thee, Mary, and thou lovest me-
Our mutual flame is like th' affinity
That doth exist between two simple bodies:
I am Potassium to thine Oxygen.
'Tis little that the holy marriage vow
Shall shortly make us one. That unity
Is, after all, but metaphysical.

Oh, would that I, my Mary, were an acid,

Leigh Hunt.

Categorical Courtship

A living acid; thou an alkali

Endow'd with human sense, that, brought together,

We both might coalesce into one salt,

One homogeneous crystal. Oh, that thou
Wert Carbon, and myself were Hydrogen;

We would unite to form olefiant gas,

Or common coal, or naphtha—would to heaven
That I were Phosphorus, and thou wert Lime!
And we of Lime composed a Phosphuret.

I'd be content to be Sulphuric Acid,

So that thou might be Soda. In that case

207

We should be Glauber's Salt. Wert thou Magnesia
Instead we'd form the salt that's named from Epsom.
Couldst thou Potassa be, I Aqua-fortis,

Our happy union should that compound form,
Nitrate of Potash-otherwise Saltpetre.
And thus our several natures sweetly blent,
We'd live and love together, until death
Should decompose the fleshly tertium quid,
Leaving our souls to all eternity

Amalgamated. Sweet, thy name is Briggs

And mine is Johnson. Wherefore should not we
Agree to form a Johnsonate of Briggs?

Unknown.

CATEGORICAL COURTSHIP

I SAT one night beside a blue-eyed girl-
The fire was out, and so, too, was her mother;
A feeble flame around the lamp did curl,

Making faint shadows, blending in each other: 'Twas nearly twelve o'clock, too, in November; She had a shawl on, also, I remember.

Well, I had been to see her every night

For thirteen days, and had a sneaking notion

To pop the question, thinking all was right,

And once or twice had make an awkward motion To take her hand, and stammer'd, cough'd, and stutter'd, But, somehow, nothing to the point had utter'd.

I thought this chance too good now to be lost;

I hitched my chair up pretty close beside her,
Drew a long breath, and then my legs I cross'd,
Bent over, sighed, and for five minutes eyed her:
She looked as if she knew what next was coming,
And with her feet upon the floor was drumming.

I didn't know how to begin, or where

I couldn't speak-the words were always choking;
I scarce could move-I seem'd tied to the chair-
I hardly breathed-'twas awfully provoking!
The perspiration from each pore came oozing,

My heart, and brain, and limbs their power seem'd losing.

At length I saw a brindle tabby cat

Walk purring up, inviting me to patcher;

An idea came, electric-like at that—

My doubts, like summer clouds, began to scatter,
I seized on tabby, though a scratch she gave me,
And said, "Come, Puss, ask Mary if she'll have me."

'Twas done at once-the murder now was out;

The thing was all explain'd in half a minute.

She blush'd, and, turning pussy-cat about,

Said, "Pussy, tell him 'yes'"; her foot was in it! The cat had thus saved me my category,

And here's the catastrophe of my story.

Unknown.

LANTY LEARY

LANTY was in love, you see,
With lovely, lively Rosie Carey;
But her father can't agree

To give the girl to Lanty Leary.

Up to fun, "Away we'll run,"

Says she, my father's so contrary.

Won't you follow me? Won't you follow me?"
"Faith, I will!" says Lanty Leary.