What wonder that the world complains
When she each am’rous suit disdains?
Close to her mother’s side she clings,
And mocks the death her folly brings
To gentle swains that feel the smarts
Her eyes inflict upon their hearts.
Whilst thus the years of youth go by,
Shall Colin languish, Strephon die?
Nay, cruel nymph! come, choose a mate,
And choose him ere it be too late!
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I was just a little thing
Floating in upon the lightOf a haunted summer night,Lo, the fairies came to singPretty slumber songs and bringCertain boons that else had missed me.From a dream I turned to seeWhat those strangers brought for me,When that fairy up and kissed me–Here, upon this cheek, he kissed me!Simmerdew was there, but sheDid not like me altogether;Daisybright…
You, blatant coward that you are,
Suppose you ply your trade on me;Come, monkey with this bard, and seeHow I’ll repay your bark with bite!Ay, snarl just once at me, you brute!And I shall hound you far and wide,As fiercely as through drifted snowThe shepherd dog pursues what foeSkulks on the Spartan mountain-side.The chip is on my shoulder–see?But touch it and…
The sky is dark and the hills are white
And this is the song the storm-king sings,As over the world his cloak he flings:‘Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;’He rustles his wings and gruffly sings:‘Sleep, little one, sleep.’On yonder mountain-side a vineClings at the foot of a mother pine;The tree bends over the trembling thing,And only the vine can hear her sing:‘Sleep, sleep, little one,…
I say, as one who never feared
I pity him who has a beardBut has no little girl to pull it!When wife and I have finished tea,Our baby woos me with her prattle,And, perching proudly on my knee,She gives my petted whiskers battle.With both her hands she tugs away,While scolding at me kind o’ spiteful;You’ll not believe me when I sayI find…
One night a tiny dewdrop fell
‘Dear little one, I love thee well,Be ever here thy sweet repose!’Seeing the rose with love bedight,The envious sky frowned dark, and thenSent forth a messenger of lightAnd caught the dewdrop up again.‘Oh, give me back my heavenly child,–My love!’ the rose in anguish cried;Alas! the sky triumphant smiled,And so the flower, heart-broken, died.
Of all the opry-houses then obtaining in the West
Milt, being rich, was much too proud to run the thing alone,So he hired an ‘acting manager,’ a gruff old man named Krone–A stern, commanding man with piercing eyes and flowing beard,And his voice assumed a thunderous tone when Jack and I appeared;He said that Julius Caesar had been billed a week or so,And would…