NOT QUITE FAIR.

UMMER and spring the lovely rose,
Unconscious of its beauty, blows-
Condemn'd, in summer and in spring,
To feel no pride at blossoming.

The hills, the meadows, and the lakes,
Enchant not for their own sweet sakes:
They cannot know, they cannot care
To know, that they are thought so fair.

The rainbow, sunset, cloud, and star,
Dream not how exquisite they are.
All dainty things of earth and sky
Delight us-but they know not why.

But I-a poet-who possess
The power of loving loveliness,
May ask, (and I may ask in vain,)
"Why am I so intensely plain?"

WISDOM AND WATER.

`IELDS are green in the early light,

FIELD

When Morning treads on the skirts of Night:

Fields are gray when the sun's gone west,

Like a clerk from the City in search of rest.

"Flesh," they tell us,

"is only grass;"

And that is the reason it comes to pass

That mortals change in a life's long day

From the young and green to the old and gray.

Not long since-as it seems to me—

I was as youthful as youth could be:

Cramming my noddle, as young folks do,

With a thousand things more nice than true.

Now this noddle of mine looks strange,

With its plenty of silver—and no small change !—

Surely I came the swiftest way

From the young and green to the old and gray.

Though the day be a changeful thing

In winter and summer, autumn and spring;
Days in December and days in June

Both seem finish'd a deal too soon.
Twilight shadows come closing in,

And the calmest, placidest hours begin :
The closing scenes of the piece we play

From the young and green to the old and gray.

"TWAS EVER THUS.

I

NEVER rear'd a young gazelle,

(Because, you see, I never tried ;)

But, had it known and loved me well,

No doubt the creature would have died. My rich and aged uncle JOHN

Has known me long and loves me well,

But still persists in living on

I would he were a young gazelle.

I never loved a tree or flower;
But, if I had, I beg to say,

The blight, the wind, the sun, or shower,
Would soon have wither'd it away.

I've dearly loved my uncle JOHN,

From childhood till the present hour,

And yet he will go living on

I would he were a tree or flower!

I

MY SONG.

LEARNT a simple bit of rhyme

An easy air to sing;—

I thought the ditty at the time

A rather funny thing.

Of course, as I was green and young,

My judgment might be wrong;

Still, folks applauded when I sung

My only comic song.

'Twas all about a Cavalier

Who finds a pair of gloves,
Which implicate, it's very clear,
The lady whom he loves.
That knight incontinently sends

That lady to Hong-Kong—

And thereupon abruptly ends

My only comic song.