THE ROMANCE OF A GLOVE.

Fancy my boyish bliss

Then when she gave me this,

And how the frequent kiss

Crumpled its fingers;

Then she was fair and kind,

Now, when I've changed my mind,

Still some scent undefined

On the glove lingers.

Though she's a matron sage,
Yet I have kept the gage;

While, as I pen this page,

Still comes a goddess,

Her eldest daughter, fair,

With the same eyes and hair :

Happy the arm, I swear,

That clasps her bodice.

Heaven grant her fate be bright,

And her step ever light

PET'S PUNISHMENT.

As it will be to-night,

First in the dances.

Why did her mother prove

False when I dared to love?

Zounds! I shall burn the glove!

This my romance is.

'f then she, like a naughty girl, Would tyranny declare it,

d give my pet a cross of pearl,

And make her always bear it.

LITTLE GERTY.

If still she tried to sulk and sigh,
And threw away my posies,

I'd catch my darling on the sly,

And smother her with roses!

But should she clench her dimpled fists,

Or contradict her betters,

I'd manacle her tiny wrists

With dainty golden fetters.

And if she dared her lips to pout-
Like many pert young misses—

I'd wind my arm her waist about,

LITTLE GERTY.

She is bright and debonnaire,

Softly falls her golden hair ;

I all other loves forswear :

Little fairy.

Little Gerty swears she's true,

Gives me kisses not a few;

Do I doubt her?

Hearts are often bought and sold;

Is it glitter, is it gold?

Half my grief could not be told

Were I without her.

Gerty scolds me if I roam,

Wonders what I want from home,

With sly glances—

Looks that seem to me to say,

"I have waited all the day;

You were very wrong to stray,

Naughty Francis."