LINES SUGGESTED BY THE 14th FEBRUARY. 25 And the hour suggests eloping Fly my thoughts to you again. May my dreams be granted never? Must I aye endure affliction Rarely realised, if ever, In our wildest works of fiction? Madly Romeo loved his Juliet; Copperfield began to pine When he hadn't been to school yet- Give me hope, the least, the dimmest, Ere I drain the poisoned cup: Tell me I may tell the chymist NoT to make that arsenic up! Else, this heart shall soon cease throbbing; And when, musing o'er my bones, Travellers ask, "Who killed Cock Robin ?" They'll be told, "Miss Sarah J—s.” A A, B, C. is an Angel of blushing eighteen : B is the Ball where the Angel was seen: C is the Chaperone, who cheated at cards: D is the Deuxtemps, with Frank of the Guards: E is the Eye which those dark lashes cover: F is the Fan it peeped wickedly over: G is the Glove of superlative kid: H is the Hand which it spitefully hid: I is the Ice which the fair one demanded : J is the Juvenile who hurried to hand it: K is the Kerchief, a rare work of art: L is the Lace which composed the chief part: O is the Olga (just then in its prime): P is the Partner who wouldn't keep time: X is his Exit, not rigidly straight: Y is a Yawning fit caused by the Ball: Z stands for Zero, or nothing at all. TO MRS. GOODCHILD. THE night-wind's shriek is pitiless and hollow, The boding bat flits by on sullen wing, And I sit desolate, like that " one swallow" Who found (with horror) that he'd not brought spring: Lonely as he who erst with venturous thumb Drew from its pie-y lair the solitary plum. And to my gaze the phantoms of the Past, The cherished fictions of my boyhood, rise: I see Red Ridinghood observe, aghast, The fixed expression of her grandam's eyes; I hear the fiendish chattering and chuckling Which those misguided fowls raised at the Ugly Duckling. The House that Jack built-and the Malt that lay Within the House-the Rat that ate the Malt The Cat, that in that sanguinary way Punished the poor thing for its venial faultThe Worrier-Dog-the Cow with crumpled hornAnd then-ah yes! and then-the Maiden all forlorn! O Mrs. Gurton-(may I call thee Gammer?) Thou more than mother to my infant mind! I loved thee better than I loved my grammar— I used to wonder why the Mice were blind, And who was gardener to Mistress Mary, And what I don't know still-was meant by "quite contrary"? "Tota contraria," an "Arundo Cami" Has phrased it-which is possibly explicit, Ingenious certainly-but all the same I Still ask, when coming on the word, 'What is it ?' |