For Jupiter will have his way, despite how much we worry,–
Some will hang on for many a day, and some die in a hurry.
The wisest thing for you to do is to embark this diem
Upon a merry escapade with some such bard as I am.
And while we sport I’ll reel you off such odes as shall surprise ye;
To-morrow, when the headache comes,–well, then I’ll satirize ye!
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What perfumed, posie-dizened sirrah,
Clasps you, O fair but faithless Pyrrha,On the quiet?For whom do you bind up your tresses,As spun-gold yellow,–Meshes that go, with your caresses,To snare a fellow?How will he rail at fate capricious,And curse you duly!Yet now he deems your wiles delicious,You perfect, truly!Pyrrha, your love’s a treacherous ocean;He’ll soon fall in there!Then shall I gloat…
Have you ever heard of the Sugar-Plum Tree?
It blooms on the shore of the Lollipop seaIn the garden of Shut-Eye Town;The fruit that it bears is so wondrously sweet(As those who have tasted it say)That good little children have only to eatOf that fruit to be happy next day.When you ‘ve got to the tree, you would have a hard timeTo capture…
Hush, bonnie, dinna greit;
Balow, my boy!When that his toile ben done,Daddie will come anone,-Hush thee, my lyttel one;Balow, my boy!Gin thou dost sleepe, perchaunceFayries will come to daunce,-Balow, my boy!Oft hath thy moder seeneMoonlight and mirkland queeneDaunce on thy slumbering een,-Balow, my boy!Then droned a bomblebeeSaftly this songe to thee:‘Balow, my boy!’And a wee heather bell,Pluckt from a…
‘Give me my bow,’ said Robin Hood,
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Little All-Aloney’s feet
And his mother runs to meetAnd to kiss her toddling sweet,Ere perchance he fall.He is, oh, so weak and small!Yet what danger shall he fearWhen his mother hovereth near,And he hears her cheering call:‘All-Aloney’?Little All-Aloney’s faceIt is all aglow with glee,As around that romping-placeAt a terrifying paceLungeth, plungeth he!And that hero seems to beAll unconscious…
If ever in the sylvan shade
Come now, O lute, I pri’ thee come–Inspire a song of Latium.A Lesbian first thy glories proved–In arms and in repose he lovedTo sweep thy dulcet strings and raiseHis voice in Love’s and Liber’s praise;The Muses, too, and him who clingsTo Mother Venus’ apron-strings,And Lycus beautiful, he sungIn those old days when you were young.O…