Make pleasant giros-when we may ; I'll bring my books, though Mrs. Mee A Dante-Auntie owns a quarto; And read him on the muro torto. But can I go? La Madre thinks It would be such an undertaking! (I wish we could consult a sphinx!) The thought alone has left her quaking! Papa (we do not mind papa) 66 Has got some notice" of some "motion," The Browns have come to stay a week- For Baby Grand, and Baby Pic, Are playing cricket in my sanctum ! Your Rover, too, affects my den, And when I pat the dear old whelp, it . . It makes me think of You, and then Ah yes, before you left me, ere Our separation was impending, These eyes had seldom shed a tear, I thought my joy could have no ending! But cloudlets gather'd soon, and this- For then I knew such bliss might leave me! My strain is sad, but, oh, believe Your words have made my spirit better; I'd meant to write a cheery letter; The sun now glances o'er the Park, If tears are on my cheek, they glitter, I think I've kiss'd your rhyme, for hark, My "bulley" gives a saucy twitter! Your blessed words extinguish doubt, A sudden breeze is gaily blowing,And Hark! The minster bells ring outShe ought to go. Of course she's going! FREDERICK LOCKER. OUTWARD BOUND. OME, Laura, patience. Time and spring Your absent Arthur back shall bring, Enriched with many an Indian thing, Once more to woo you; Him, neither wind nor wave can check Who, cramped beneath the "Simla's" deck, Still constant, though with stiffened neck, Makes verses to you. Would it were wave and wind alone! A man might parry; But only faith, or "triple brass," Can help the "outward bound" to pass For him fond mothers, stout and fair, For him the eyes of daughters droop Nor are these all his pains, nor most. All, all with pleased persistence show - In vain. Let doubts assail the weak; Naught can subdue his soul secure ; But, Laura, on your side, forbear Albeit none more skilled can guide Through "Guards "Mabel." or Be warned in time. Without a trace Avoid the confidential nook; If, when you sing, you find his look AUSTIN DOBSON. TWENTY AND THIRTY. Y heart beat high, for I had heard M town My heart beat high-yet how absurd! Our witnesses two sleepy cows, And Ellen's lady's-maid. We loved, or thought we loved; and love, Of jealousy or doubt; Youth we possessed, and strength and health, We'd gain, if Fate so willed it, wealth, And if not-do without! Ah me, poor fools! a twelvemonth more An Indian merchant's blooming bride. Parting with her few tears I shed, I drank his health, and wished him dead, And hated all mankind! A "lapse of years" then intervenes, The characters, the very scenes, Are grander than they were of yore. The room is filled with nick-nacks rare, Rich Indian perfumes load the air, So oriental is the show, It needs the cab I leave below For Ellen has returned—she greets |