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AN AUTUMN IDYL.

LAWRENCE.

All worship mine. Her purity doth hedge her

Round with so delicate divinity, that men, Stained to the soul with money-bag and ledger, Bend to the goddess, manifest again.

FRANK.

None worship mine. But some, I fancy, love

her,

Cynics to boot. I know the children run, Seeing her come, for naught that I discover, Save that she brings the summer and the sun.

LAWRENCE.

Mine is a Lady, beautiful and queenly,

Crowned with a sweet, continual control,

Grandly forbearing, lifting life serenely

E'en to her own nobility of soul.

AN AUTUMN IDYL.

FRANK.

Mine is a Woman, kindly beyond measure,

Fearless in praising, faltering in blame;

Simply devoted to other people's pleasure,—

Jack's sister Florence,-now you know her name.

LAWRENCE.

"Jack's sister Florence!" Never, Francis, never.

Jack, do you hear? Why, it was she I meant. She like the country! Ah, she's far too clever

[blocks in formation]

Sorry to differ. Jack,-the word's with you.

AN AUTUMN IDYL.

FRANK.

How is it, Umpire? Though the motto's thread

bare,

"Cælum, non animum,”—is, I take it, true.

JACK.

"Souvent femme varie," as a rule, is truer;

Flattered, I'm sure,-but both of you romance.

Happy to further suit of either wooer,

Merely observing-you haven't got a chance.

LAWRENCE.

Yes. But the Pipe-

FRANK.

The Pipe is what we care for,

JACK.

Well, in this case, I scarcely need explain,

Judgment of mine were indiscreet, and therefore, Peace to you both. The Pipe I shall retain.

A DIALOGUE FROM PLATO.

"Le temps le mieux employé est celui qu'on perd.”

CLAUDE TILLIER.

'D "read" three hours. Both notes and text

I'D

Were fast a mist becoming;

In bounced a vagrant bee, perplexed,

And filled the room with humming,

Then out. The casement's leafage sways,

And, parted light, discloses

Miss Di., with hat and book,-a maze

Of muslin mixed with roses.

"Your're reading Greek?" "I am-and you?".

66

Oh, mine's a mere romancer!"

"So Plato is." "Then read him-do;

And I'll read mine in answer."

A DIALOGUE FROM PLATO.

I read. "My Plato (Plato, too,

That wisdom thus should harden!)

Declares 'blue eyes look doubly blue
Beneath a Dolly Varden."

She smiled. My book in turn avers (No author's name is stated)

That sometimes those Philosophers

Are sadly mis-translated."

"But hear, the next's in stronger style:

The Cynic School asserted

That two red lips which part and smile

May not be controverted!"

She smiled once more- My book, I find,

Observes some modern doctors

Would make the Cynics out a kind

Of album-verse concoctors."

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