THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

Then out of the cinders there cometh a chirp,
Like an echoing, answering cry,-

Little we care for the outside world,
My friend the cricket and I.

For my cricket has learnt, I am sure of it quite,
That this earth is a silly, strange place,
And perhaps he's been beaten and hurt in the fight,
And perhaps he's been passed in the race.
But I know he has found it far better to sing
Than to talk of ill luck and to sigh,-

Little we care for the outside world,

My friend the cricket and I.

Perhaps he has loved, and perhaps he has lost, And perhaps he is weary and weak,

And tired of life's torrent, so turbid and tost,

And disposed to be mournful and meek.

AN INVITATION.

Yet still I believe that he thinks it is best

To sing, and let troubles float by,Little we care for the outside world, My friend the cricket and I.

AN INVITATION.

(From the French of THEOPHILE GAUTIER.)

ELL me, pretty one, where will you sail ?

TELL

How shall our bark be steered, I pray?

Breezes flutter each silken vail,

Tell me, where will you go to-day?

My vessel's helm is of ivory white,

Her bulwarks glisten with jewels bright

And red gold;

The sails are made from the wings of a dove,

And the man at the wheel is the god of love,

Blythe and bold.

AN INVITATION.

Where shall we sail? 'Mid the Baltic's foam ?

Or over the broad Pacific roam?

Don't refuse.

Say, shall we gather the sweet snow-flowers,

Or wander in rose-strewn Eastern bowers?

Only choose.

"Oh, carry me then," cried the fair coquette, "To the land where never I've journeyed yet,

To that shore

Where love is lasting, and change unknown,

And a man is faithful to one alone

Evermore."

Go, seek that land for a year and a day,

At the end of the time you'll be still far away,

Pretty maid;

'Tis a country unlettered in map or in chart,

'Tis a country that does not exist, sweetheart,

I'm afraid!

MY PRETTY NEIGHBOR.

(From the French of VICTOR HUGO.)

I

F you've nothing, dear, to tell me,

Why, each morning passing by,

With your sudden smiles compel me, To adore you, then repel me,

Pretty little neighbor, why?

Why, if you have naught to tell me, Do you so my patience try?

If you've nothing, sweet, to teach me, Tell me why you press my hand?

I'll attend if you'll impeach me

Of my sins, or even preach me

Sermons hard to understand;

But, if you have naught to teach me, Dear, your meaning I demand!

THREE KISSES.

If you wish me, love, to leave you,

Why forever walk my way!

Then, when gladly I receive you,
Wherefore do I seem to grieve you?

Must I then, in truth, believe you

Wish me, darling, far away?

Do you wish me, love, to leave you?

Pretty little neighbor, say!

THREE KISSES.

(Imitated from the German of A. VON CHAMISSO.)

OU little maid with golden hair,

YOU

As at my thin grey locks you stare,

Your lisping tongue

Half asks the question which your eyes

Half mirror in their sweet surprise,

Was I once young?