When she came home the other day
You kiss'd her; but I cannot say
She kiss'd you first and ran away.

W. S. LANDOR.

CCXXIII

A PETITION TO TIME

TOUCH us gently, Time!

Let us glide adown thy stream Gently, as we sometimes glide Through a quiet dream! Humble voyagers are We,

Husband, wife, and children three

(One is lost, an angel, fled

To the azure overhead!)

Touch us gently, Time!

We've not proud nor soaring wings:

Our ambition, our content

Lies in simple things.
Humble voyagers are We
O'er Life's dim unsounded sea,
Seeking only some calm clime ;-
Touch us gently, gentle Time!

B. WALLER PROCTER.

CCXXIV

LOVE AND DEATH

I THOUGHT Once how Theocritus had sung
Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years,
Who each one in a gracious hand appears
To bear a gift for mortals, old or young:
And, as I mused it in his antique tongue,
I saw, in gradual vision through my tears,
The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years,
Those of my own life, who by turns had flung
A shadow across me. Straightway I was 'ware,
So weeping, how a mystic shape did move
Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair
And a voice said in mastery, while I strove :

;

"Guess now who holds thee?"-"Death!" I said. But,

there,

The silver answer rang, "Not Death, but Love!"

CCXXV

MRS. BROWNING.

THERE are who say we are but dust;
We may be soon, but are not yet:
Nor should be while in Love we trust,
And never what he taught forget.

W. S. LANDOR.

256

CCXXVI

SONG

Go, forget me-why should sorrow
O'er that brow a shadow fling?
Go, forget me—and to-morrow

Brightly smile and sweetly sing.
Smile-though I shall not be near thee;
Sing-though I shall never hear thee;
May thy soul with pleasure shine,
Lasting as the gloom of mine.

Like the sun, thy presence glowing,
Clothes the meanest things in light;
And when thou, like him, art going,
Loveliest objects fade in night.
All things look'd so bright about thee,
That they nothing seem without thee;
By that pure and lucid mind
Earthly things were too refined.

Go, thou vision wildly gleaming,
Softly on my soul that fell;
Go, for me no longer beaming-

Hope and Beauty! fare ye well!

Go, and all that once delighted
Take, and leave me all benighted;
Glory's burning-generous swell,
Fancy and the Poet's shell.

CCXXVII

REV. C. WOLFE.

JENNY kiss'd me when we met,
Jumping from the chair she sat in;
Time, you thief! who love to get

Sweets into your list, put that in :

Say I'm weary, say I'm sad,

Say that health and wealth have miss'd me,

Say I'm growing old, but add,

Jenny kiss'd me.

CCXXVIII

THE NUN

If you become a nun, dear,
A friar I will be ;

In any cell you run, dear,
Pray look behind for me.

S

LEIGH HUNT.

The roses all turn pale, too;

The doves all take the veil, too;
The blind will see the show.

What! you become a nun, my dear!
I'll not believe it, no.

The bishop Love will be;

The Cupids every one, dear,

Will chaunt "We trust in thee."

The incense will go sighing,

The candles fall a-dying,

The water turn to wine;

What! you go take the vows, my dear!

You may-but they'll be mine.

LEIGH HUNT.

CCXXIX

A BOY'S SONG

WHERE the pools are bright and deep,
Where the grey trout lies asleep,

Up the river and o'er the lea,

That's the way for Billy and me.

Where the blackbird sings the latest,

Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest,

Where the nestlings chirp and flee,

That's the way for Billy and me.