A NOONTIDE LYRIC. THE dinner-bell, the dinner-bell Through hill and plain, through street and lane, From curtained hall, and whitewashed stall, Like bursting waves from ocean caves, I smell the smell of roasted meat! The beggars know where they can go, At twelve o'clock men took my hand, And eye me with a fearful look, As if I were a bear! The poet lays his laurels down And hastens to his greens; The happy tailor quits his goose, To riot on his beans; The weary cobbler snaps his thread, The printer leaves his pi; Methinks I hear an angel voice, That softly seems to say; "Pale stranger, all may yet be well, Then wipe thy tears away; I hear the voice! I go! I go! They little heed their future need, Give me to-day the rosy bowl, Give me one golden dream,To-morrow kick away the stool, And dangle from the beam! THE BALLAD OF THE OYSTERMAN. It was a tall young oysterman lived by the river-side, His shop was just upon the bank, his boat was on the tide; The daughter of a fisherman, that was so straight and slim, Lived over on the other bank, right opposite to him. It was the pensive oysterman that saw a lovely maid, Upon a moonlight evening, a sitting in the shade; He saw her wave her handkerchief, as much as if to say, "I'm wide awake, young oysterman, and all the folks away." Then up arose the oysterman, and to himself said he, "I guess I'll leave the skiff at home, for fear that folks should see; I read it in the story-book, that, for to kiss his dear, Leander swam the Hellespont, -and I will swim this here." And he has leaped into the waves, and crossed the shining stream, And he has clambered up the bank, all in the moonlight gleam; O there were kisses sweet as dew, and words as soft as rain, But they have heard her father's step, and in he leaps again! Out spoke the ancient fisherman, my daughter?" "O what was that, "'T was nothing but a pebble, sir, I threw into the water;" "And what is that, pray tell me, love, that paddles off so fast?" "It's nothing but a porpoise, sir, that 's been a swimming past." Out spoke the ancient fisherman,-"Now bring me my harpoon! I'll get into my fishing-boat, and fix the fellow soon;" Down fell that pretty innocent, as falls a snow-white lamb, Her hair drooped round her pallid cheeks, like sea-weed on a clam. |