The merry muse; society verse by American writers online

UC-NRLF




^ EI\NE$T DE LANCE/



THE MERRY MUSE

SOCIETY VERSE BY AMERICAN WRITERS



THE MERRY MUSE

SOCIETY YE.R-SE IB'.'? I
BY AMERICAN WRITERS



EDITED nv



ERNEST DE LANCEY PIERSON

Editor of "Society Verse"; Author of "Shadow of the Kr.r?
"A Slave of Circumstances," etc.



NEW AND ENLARGED EDITION



CHICAGO, NEW YORK, AND SAN FRANCISCO

BELFORD, CLARKE & CO.

PUBLISHERS

LONDON : H. J. DKANE, LOVELL'S COURT, PATERNOSTER Row






COPYIHOIIT, 1SS9.
I1ELFORD, CLARKE & COMPANY



TO

MRS. JAMES BARROW

("AUNT FANNY")



929821



PREFA TOR Y NO TE.

The friendly reception of " Society Verse, by American
Writers" has encouraged the editor to prepare this
larger and more representative collection, now published
wider the title of " The Merry Muse"

In a country where Pan is fast becoming a household
divinity, it has been found impossible to collect in one
volume specimens by all the scholars in this merry school
of song. A sufficient selection has been made to display
whatever variety of style and subject is to be found in the
best vers cle societe by American Writers.

The rules that govern what is called the ' ' Patrician
Poetry ' ' of the Old World cannot properly be applied to
these lively lyrics of the New. And yet what our aver-
age verse lacks in polish and dignity of expression is
more than atoned for by the spirit of native humor that
pervades nearly er>ery line.

It has been thought best not to hold any reserved scats
in this symposium of singers.

Here brown heads and gray are grouped democratically,
and it is to be hoped amicably, together. May their pleas-
ant pipings stir a responsive and sympathetic chord in
the public' 's feelings and finances, is the sincere wish of
the subscriber.

ERNEST DE LANCEY PIER SON.
New York, January 12.



ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.

The editor would acknowledge the courtesy of the fol-
lowing publishers in allowing the use of valuable copy-
rights: To Messrs Charles Scribner's Sons, selections
from "Airs from Arcady," by H. C. Bunner ; Cassell
& Company, selections from " Oberon and Puck," by
Helen Gray Cone, and "Pipes from Prairie Land," by
Minnie Gilmore ; D. Lothrop & Co., selections from
"With Reed & Lyre," by Clinton Scollard, and " Post-
Laureate' Idyls, " by Oscar Fay Adams ; Ticknor&Co.,
for selections from "Vagrant Verse," by Charles
Henry Webb, and " Songs and Satires, " by J. J. Roche ;
Roberts and Brothers, for ' ' Provencal Lovers, ' ' by
E. C. Stedman, from " The Masque of the Poets";
Henry Holt & Co., selections from "A Midsummer
Lark, "by W. A. Crofut ; Keppler & Schwarzmann,
for verses by C. C. Starkweather, Madeline Bridges.
R. K. Munkittrick, Gertrude Hall, and A. E. Wa-
trous ; Houghton, Mifflin & Co., for selections from
the works of John G. Saxe, Oliver Wendell Holmes,
Bret Harte, and Edmund Clarence Stedman ; Har-
per and Brothers, for " De Convenance," by Mrs. M.
P. Handy, "A Kiss," by Joel Benton and "One of
the Pack, ' ' by George Parsons Lathrop, in the ' ' Monthly
Magazine" ; "The Judge" Publishing Company, for
verses by DeWitt Sterry ; Porter and Coates, for se-
lections from "Mask and Domino," by David L.
Proudfit ; Cupples, Hurd & Co., for selections from
" Songs at the Start," Louise Guiney ; The Cosmopoli-
tan Magazine Company, for verses by Duffield Osborne
and Edith Tupper ; and The Century Company for the
following poems from "The Century" Magazine:
"Marjorie's Kisses," " Time's Revenge. "and "On the
Fly-Leaf of a Book of Old Plays," by Walter Learned:
' ' To Mrs Carlyle., ' * and ' ' The Message of the Rose, ' '
by Bessie Chandler ; " Her Bonnet, " by Mary Wilkins ;
" The Fair Copyholder, " by Charles Crandall ; " Le
Grenier, " by Robertson Trowbridge ; "In Winter," by
Louise Chandler Moulton ; " The Morning After," by
Harold Van Santvoord ; "Last July, " by Sophy Law-
rence ; "In Arcadia," by R. T. W. Duke; "Two
Triolets," by Harrison Robertson ; " Rondeaux of
Cities, " by Robert Grant; "On a Hymn Book," by
W. J. Henderson ; and "The Critic" Company, for
verses by Irving Brown.



CONTENTS.

ADAMS, OSCAR FAY. PAGE.
Where are the Pipes of Pan I

ALDRICH, THOMAS BAILEY.

On an Intaglio Head of Minerva 3

AUSTIN, HENRY.

Durant le Diner 6

BATES, ARLO.

Love is a Knave 9

Triolet 10

BENTON, JOEL.

A Kiss by Mistake 1 1

BERG, A. E.

Called Back 13

BOCOCK, JOHN PAUL.

A Candid Proposal 15

To a Friend on his Wedding Day 16

BROWN, VANDYKE.

A Seaside Incident 18

BROWNE, IRVING.

How a Bibliomaniac Binds His Books 20

BUNNER, H. C.

Yes? 23

She Was a Beauty 25

Just a Love Letter 26



xii CONTENTS.

BRIDGES, MADELINE. PAGE.

Refused , 30

Even Up 3 2

Afterward 33

Her Logic 34

CONE, HELEN GRAY.

An Ivory Miniature 35

Ballad of Cassandra Brown 38

CHANDLER, BESSIE.

The Message of the Rose 41

To Mrs. Carlyle 43

The Stork's Jeremiad ., . . . . 45

CRAIG, BALLARD.

Folly... , 47

CRANDALL, CHARLES.

The Fair Copy-Holder 48

A Song for the Hickory Tree 49

CROFFUT, W. A.

In Switzerland 51

DUKE, JR. R, T. W.

In Arcadia 54

EYTINGE, MARGARET.

An Old Bachelor to an Old Maid 56

FAY, ANNA MARIA.

Rondel 57

FAULKNER, HENRY C.

Ballade of the Rose 58

Between the Lines. 60

Ballade of the Balcony 63

FOSTER, DAVID S.

The Game of Chess 65



CONTENTS. xiii

GILMORE, MINNIE. PAGE.

After the Ball 67

A Lost Friend 68

GRANT, ROF.ERT.

Rondeau a la Boston 7

" " Philadelphia 71

" " Baltimore 72

" New York 73

GUINEY, LOUISE IMOGENE.

Private Theatricals 74

Lo and Lu . 75

HALL, RUTH.

Ballade of the Shepherdess 77

Winter's Wooing 79

Too Learned 80

MALL, GERTRUDE.

Mrs. Golightly . . '. Si

HANDY, MRS. M. P.

Alnaschar 83

De Convenance 85

HARVEY, J. C. ^

A Challenge 87

HARTE, BRET.

Half an Hour Before Supper 88

What the Wolf Really Said to Little Red

Riding-Hood 91

HART, JEROME A.

A Boutonniere 92

HENDERSON, W. J.

On a Hymn Book 93

Palmistry 96



X1V CONTENTS.

HOLMES, OLIVER WENDELL. PAGE.

My Aunt 97

To the Portrait of a Lady 100

Aunt Tabitha 102

HILDRETH, CHARLES LOTIN.

Heart and Hand 104

LATHROP, GEORGE PARSONS.

One of the Pack 106

LAWRENCE, SOPHIE ST. G.

Last July 109

LEARNED, WALTER.

Time's Revenge in

On the Fly Leaf of a Book of Old Plays 112

Marjorie's Kisses 1 14

LUMMIS, CHARLES F.

My Meerschaums 115

My Cigarette , 1 18

LUDERS, CHARLES HENRY.

A Boutonniere 120

Deception 121

MATTHEWS, BRANDER.

An American Girl 122

Ballade of Adaptation 124

MARTIN, EDWARD S.

Mea Culpa ......... 126

Infirm 129

MOULTON, LOUISE CHANDLER.

The Rose She Wore in Winter , 130

A Little Comedy '. 131

In Winter 133

MUNKITTRICK, R. K.

The Ballade of the Engaged Young Man .... 135

An Old Beau 137



CONTENTS. xv

OSBORNE, DUFFIELD. PAGE.

Prcesens Regnat 138

To a Corkscrew *39

PIATT, DONN.

We Parted at the Omnibus 14

PIERSON, S. H.

At Mrs. Millidor's 143

Ballade of Midsummer 146

PIERSON, E. D.

Violets , 148

Blowing Bubbles H9

PECK, SAMUEL M.

An April Maid 151

A Southern Girl 153

PECK, WALLACE.

Courting an Heiress 155

PETERS, WILLIAM THEODORE.

To a Slipper 157

PROUDFIT, DAVID L.

Tatting 159

Down the Switchback 161

ROCHE, JAMES JEFFREY.

If 163

Don't t 164

ROBERTSON, HARRISON.

Coquette 1 65

Two Triolets 167

Appropriation 1 68

REESE, LIZETTE WOODWORTH.

The Rhyme of a Fan 1 70

A Rosebud 171



xvi CONTENTS.

SAXE, JOHN G. PAGE.

Cloe to Clara . 172

A Reasonable Petition 174

SCOLLARD, CLINTON.

To a Chinese Idol 175

At the Letter-Box 177

Rose Leaves 179

SMITH, HENRY B.

At the Church Door 180

My Mausoleum 182

A Marriage & la Mode 183

SMITH, S. DECATUR.

At Bar Harbor 185

A Woman's Weapons 187

STERRY, DE WITT.

An Old Glove 188

STARKWEATHER, C. C.

Ballade of Barristers 190

Rivals 192

STEDMAN, EDMUND C.

Proveii9al Lovers 193

Toujours Amour , 195

Pan in Wall Street 197

TILTON, THEODERE.

French with a Master 201

TROWBRIDGE, ROBERTSON .

Le Grenier 204

TUPPER, EDITH S.

Understood 206

TYRELL, HENRY.

To a Japanese Baby 207

Mittens 209

Mis-matched. . .211



CONTENTS. xvii

VAN SANTVOORD, HAROLD.

The Morning After 213

WATROUS, A. E.

Her First Train 214

Old Bohemians 216

WEBB, CHARLES HENRY.

Her Name was Felice 218

Discarded ; 219

In the Bay-Window 220

WILCOX, ELLA WHEELER.

The Duet 222

Illogical 224

WILKINS, MARY E.

Her Bonnet . . . 226



WHERE ARE THE PIPES OF PAN?

OSCAR FAY ADAMS.

IN these prosaic days
Of politics and trade,
When seldom Fancy lays
Her touch on man or maid,
The sounds are fled that strayed
Along sweet streams that ran;

Of song the world's afraid :
Where are the Pipes of Pan?

Within the busy maze
Wherein our feet are stayed,

There roam no gleesome fays
Like those which once repaid
His sight who first essayed

The stream of song to span ;
Those spirits all are laid :

Where are the Pipes of Pan?



WHERE ARE THE PIPES OF PAN?

Dry now the poet's bays ;

Of song-robes disarrayed
He hears not now the praise

Which erst those won who played

On pipes of rushes made,
Before dull days began

And love of song decayed :
Where are the Pipes of Pan ?

ENVOY.

Prince, all our pleasures fade ;

Vain all the toils of man ;
And Fancy cries dismayed,

" Where are the Pipes of Pan ? "



ON AN INTAGLIO HEAD OF MINERVA,

THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH.

OENEATH the warrior's helm, behold

The flowing tresses of the woman !
Minerva, Pallas, what you will
A winsome creature, Greek or Roman.

Minerva ? No ! 'tis some sly minx
In cousin's helmet masquerading ;

If not then Wisdom was a dame
For sonnets and for serenading !

I thought the goddess cold, austere,

Not made for love's despairs and blisses ;

Did Pallas wear her hair like that ?

Was Wisdom's mouth so shaped for kisses ?

The Nightingale should be her bird,
And not the Owl, big-eyed and solemn ;

How very fresh she looks, and yet
She's older far than Trajan's Column !



ON AN INTAGLIO HEAD OF MINERVA.

The magic hand that carved this face,
And set this vine-work round it running,

Perhaps ere mighty Phidias wrought
Had lost its subtle skill and cunning.

Who was he ? Was he glad or sad,
Who knew to carve in such a fashion ?

Perchance he graved the dainty head

For some brown girl that scorned his passion.

Perchance, in some still garden place
Where neither fount nor tree to-day is,

He flung the jewel at the feet

Of Phryne, or perhaps 'twas Lais.

But he is dust; we may not know

His happy or unhappy story :
Nameless, and dead these centuries

His work outlives him there's his glory !

Both man and jewel lay in earth

Beneath a lava-buried city ;
The countless summers came and went

With neither haste nor hate nor pity.

Years blotted out the man, but left

The jewel fresh as any blossom,
Till some Visconti dug it up

To rise and fall on Mabel's bosom.



ON AN INTAGLIO HEAD OF MINERVA.

O nameless brother ! See how Time
Your gracious handiwork has guarded ;

See how your loving, patient art
Has come at last to be rewarded.

Who would not suffer slights of men,
And pangs of hopeless passion also,

To have his carven agate stone
On such a bosom rise and fall so \



DURANT LE DINER.

HENRY W. AUSTIN.

V r OU in the sunshine, I in the shadow

Thus we have journeyed our whole lite long
You in the calm of your Eldorado
I in my tempest of song.

Fortune held us in equal favor

When we started with youthful hearts ;

Then she jilted me. I forgave her,
For she left me the lovely Arts.

Ah ! she could not of them bereave me ;

They were mine from my first full breath r
And their splendors will never leave me

Till the sunset that men call death.

Strange, in sooth, is the retrospection !

Strange the manifold parts I played
Chasing ever Delight's reflection,

Half-enamored of Sorrow's shade !
d



D URA NT LE DINER .

You and I what a contrast, truly !

I with passionate, purple veins :
You alone in the Ultima Thule

Of Frigidity's sordid gains.

You a mountainous marvel of money,
With your juleps that told of mints :

I a vagabond, strange and funny,
Called Bohemia's facile Prince.

Miser, yours was a shoddy Palace ;

Venus and Bacchus held court in mine ;
Deeper, I swear, have I drunk Life's chalice,

And even the dregs to my taste are fine.

All my tears I have turned to laughter
Melted like pearls in a nectar bowl.

What though nothing may be hereafter,
Here, at least, I have had my soul.

Yes, I have had it and found it splendid
Psyche, Butterfly, Dream Divine !

What ! So soon must it all be ended ?
Double the perfumes and spice the wine.

" Sorrow comes in the guise of pleasure ? "
Trite, I'm certain, but may be true ;

Therefore bring me a broader measure,
Bring me a weed of a darker hue.



DURA NT LE DINER.

You may sneer, you ill-savored sinner ;

Wealth and power were denied my wits ;
Still I'm sure (when I've had my dinner)

That my misses outmatch your hits.

But what odds, when the play is over,
If men fancy you've won the game,

Since, though always you lived in clover ;
We beneath it will sleep the same ?



LOVE IS A KNAVE.

ARLO BATES.

1 OVE is a knave ; he plucks a rose

Or twines a curl, and toys like this
He spreads to snare fond hearts ; he knows
How little else than light breath goes
To vows and bubbles both, I wis.

The most bewitching airs he blows

On sweet-voiced pipes ; while promised bliss,
Pledged with no sure fruition, shows
Love is a knave.

Sweet, to deprive us of repose,

Love weaves his schemes ; but naught amiss,
We laugh to scorn his threatened woes,

And cry, with warmest clasp and kiss,
Love is a knave !
9



TRIOLET.

ARLO BATES.

117EE Rose is but three,

Yet coquettes she already.

I can scarcely agree

Wee Ro^e is but three,

When her archness I sec !

Are the sex born unsteady ?-

Wee Rose is but three,

Yet coquettes she already.



A KISS BY MISTAKE.

JOEL BENTON.

T | PON the railway train we met-
She had the softest, bluest eyes,
A face you never could forget

" Sixteen " with all that that implies.
I knew her once a little girl,

And meeting now a mutual friend,
Our thoughts and hearts got in a whirl ;

We talked for miles without much end.

I threw my arm around the seat

Where, just in front, she sideways sat,
Her melting eyes and face to meet

(And no one wondered much at that)
For soon the station where she left

Would on the sorrowing vision rise,
And I at least should feel bereft ;

I thought a tear stood in her eyes.

She was but kith, not kin of mine ;

Ten years had passed since last we met,
And when in going she did incline

Her face, 'twas natural to forget,



A KISS BY MISTAKE.

It seemed so like a child I knew
I met her half way by mistake ;

And coming near those eyes of blue,
She gently kissed me by mistake !

She saw her error, and straightway ran

With flaming blushes, rosy red ;
I should not be one-half a man

If thoughts of wrong came in my head ;
In fact, I'd take that very train

And travel daily for her sake,
If she would only come again

And gently kiss me by mistake t



CALLED BACK.

ALBERT ELLERY BERG.

THERE'S a lull in this dull Lenten season
Of dressing and dancing, et cet.
My thoughts turn from folly and treason,

To one whom I cannot forget ;
Your last note is now almost yellow ;

We quarreled the usual way;
I smiled upon some other fellow,
Because you were flirting with May.

And when we went home from the party,

Your looks were as cold as the air ;
I, too, was reserved, and no hearty

Good-night kiss was asked for Mon Cher !
The next day I wrote you a letter

Affecting a dignified tone,
And told you I thought it were better

In future to leave me alone.

My pride led me then to deceive you,
To tell you my love was all dead,

So foolish was I to believe you

Would read 'twixt the lines but instead



CALLED BACK.

You thought me in earnest, and parted,

To worship society's calf;
But, Jack, I am now broken-hearted,

And you are too tender by half.

We have been far too much to each other,

To sever for nothing at all,
And if you have not found another,

Why, then you are welcome to call.
There's always a seat at our table,

A place for you still in my heart ;
So, Jack, if you think you are able,

Come back and rehearse your old rjart !



A CANDID PROPOSAL.

JOHN PAUL BOCOCK.

I LOVE you, love you ! love you ! ! yet confess
* A consciousness of trifling does come o'er me
When all the other shapes of loveliness

To whom I've said the same thing rise before me.
They were, you are, the idol of my heart ;

An idol it must have which must be kissed. Hence
That which was once but of my life a part

Is now my whole existence.

I see a scornful light grow in your eyes,

And yet they shine like stars half hid by mists
Magnificent ! You are the fairest prize

My errant heart e'er fougkt for in love's lists.
You see, I'm candid ; you have bowled me over,

And now I drink and dine and bathe in love ;
1 puzzled half an hour just to discover

The perfume of your glove !

But now all empty was this heart of min-e;

Some woman must be in it. With that rose
Give me yourself, and walk into the shrine

Its sovereign goddess. In short, I propose
My ! Won't the Johnson-Mowbrays be enraged !

This summer's changed the lot of many a rover -
That you and I be genuinely engaged

Until the season's over !

2* I



TO A FRIEND ON HIS WEDDING DAY.

JOHN PAUL BOCOCK.

O O, Henri, you will take the leap
^ At which so often you have laughed ;
You must have taken many a peep

While Hymen's garden wall you chaffed!

There never was a likely lad

Who didn't some time want to marry ;
I hear you " have it pretty bad"

Sly dog, you fetched, now you must carry !

No more late suppers at the club,

No more the quiet poker party;
You've had your outing there's the rub

You must keep innings now, my hearty !

Henceforth the dear domestic hearth
Shall light the limits of your vision ;

Henceforth your dearest joys on 6arth
Be those that once were your derision !

I see you, Henri, walk the floor,
I hear you groan it must be colic ;

I hear a faint infantile roar

Behold your early morning frolic !



TO A FRIEND ON HIS WEDDING-DA Y. *7

A thousand times I wish you joy,

Bright be the paths where Hymen's beckoned ;
Keep a stiff upper lip, my boy,

And here's a health to Henri II.!



A SEASIDE INCIDENT.

VANDYKE BROWN.

" \ A 7HY, Bob, you dear old fellow,

* * Where have you been these years ?
In Egypt, India, Khiva,

With the Khan's own volunteers?
Have you scaled the Alps or Andes,

Sailed to Isles of Amazons ?
What climate, Bob, has wrought the change

Your face from brown to bronze? "

She placed a dimpled hand in mine

In the same frank, friendly way ;
We stood once more on the dear old beach,

And it seemed but yesterday
Since, standing on this same white shore,

She said, with eyelids wet,
" Good-bye. You may remember, Bob,

But I shall not forget."

I held her hand and whispered low,
" Madge, darling, what of the years

The ten long years that have intervened
Since, through the mist of tears,

2 iS



ig A SEASIDE INCIDENT.

We said good-bye on this same white beach
Here by the murmuring sea ?

You, Madge, were then just twenty,
And I was twenty-three."

A crimson blush came to her cheek,

" Hush, Bob," she quickly said ;
" Let's look at the bathers in the surf

There's Nellie and Cousin Ned."
" And who's that portly gentleman

On the shady side of life ? "
" Oh, he belongs to our party, too

In fact, Bob, I'm his wife !

" And I tell you, Bob, it's an awful thing,

The way he does behave :
Flirts with that girl in steel-gray silk

Bob, why do you look so grave ? "
" The fact is, Madge I well, ahem !

Oh, nothing at all, my clear
Except that she of the steel-gray silk

Is the one I married last year."



HOW A BIBLIOMANIAC BINDS HIS BOOKS.

IRVING BROWNE.

T T) like my favorite books to bind

So that their outward dress
To every bibliomaniac's mind
Their contents should express.

Napoleon's life should glare in red,

John Calvin's gloom in blue ;
Thus they would typify bloodshed

And sour religion's hue.

The prize-ring record of the past

Must be in blue and black ;
While any color that is fast

Would do for Derby track.

The Popes in scarlet well may 'go ;

In jealous green, Othello ;
In gray, Old Age of Cicero,

And London Cries in yellow.



HO IV A BIBILOMANIAC BINDS HIS BOOKS.

My Walton should his gentle art

In salmon best express,
And Penn and Fox the friendly heart

In quiet drab confess.

Statistics of the lumber trade
Should be embraced in boards ;

While muslin for the inspired Maid
A fitting garb affords

Intestine wars I'd clothe in vellum,

While pig-skin Bacon grasps,
And flat romances, such as " Pelham,"

Should stand in calf with clasps.

Blind-tooled should be blank verse and rhyme

Of Homer and of Milton ;
But Newgate Calendar of Crime

I'd lavishly dab gilt on.

The edges of a sculptor's life

May fitly marbled be
But sprinkle not, for fear of strife,

A Baptist history

Crimea's warlike facts and dates

Of fragrant Russia smell ;
The subjugated Barbary States

In crushed Morocco d \vclL



HOIV A BIBLIOMANIAC BINDS HIS BOOKS,

But, oh ! that one I hold so dear

Should be arrayed so cheap
Gives me a qualm ; I sadly fear

My Lamb must be half sheep !



YES?

H. C. BUNNER.

I S it true then, my girl, that you mean it
* The word spoken yesterday night ?
Does that hour seem so sweet now between it

And this has come day's sober light ?
Have you woke from a moment of rapture

To remember, regret, and repent,
And to hate, perchance, him who has trapped your

Unthinking consent?

Who was he, last evening this fellow

Whose audacity lent him a charm ?
Have you promised to wed Pulchinello

For life taking Figaro's arm ?
Will you have the Court fool of the papers,

The clown in the journalists' ring
Who earns his scant bread by his capers,

To be your heart's king?

When we met quite by chance at the theater
And I saw you home under the moon,

I'd no thought, love, that mischief would be at her
Tricks with my tongue quite so soon ;



24 YES ?

That I should forget fate and fortune,

Make a difference 'twixt Sevres and delf

That I'd have the calm nerve to importune
You, sweet, for yourself.

It's appalling, by Jove, the audacious

Effrontery of that request !
But you you grew suddenly gracious,

And hid your sweet face on my breast.
Why you did it I cannot conjecture ;

I surprised you, poor child, I dare say,
Or perhaps does the moonlight affect your

Head often that way ?

You're released ! With some wooer replace me

More worthy to be your life's light ;
From the tablet of memory efface me,

If you don't mean the Yes of last night.
But, unless you are anxious to see me a

Wreck of the pipe and the cup,
In my birthplace and graveyard, Bohemia

Love, don't give me up !



SHE WAS A BEAUTY.

(RONDEL.)
H. C. BUNNER.

SHE was a beauty in the days
When Madison was President ;
And quite coquettish in her ways
On conquests of the heart intent.

Grandpapa, on his right knee bent,
Wooed her in stiff, old-fashioned phrase
She was a beauty in the days

When Madison was President.

And when your roses where hers went
Shall go, my Rose, who date from Hayes,

I hope you'll wear her sweet content,
Of whom tradition lightly says :
She was a beauty in the days

When Madison was President.



JUST A LOVE-LETTER.

H. C. BUNNER.
Miss Blank at Blank. Jemima, let it go !" AUSTIN DOBSON.

NEW- YORK, July 2oth, 1883.
DEAR GIRL:

The town goes on as though

It thought you still were in it ;
The gilded cage seems scarce to know

That it has lost its linnet ;
The people come, the people pass ;

The clock keeps on a-ticking:
And through the basement plots of grass

Persistent weeds are pricking.

I thought 'twould never come the Spring

Since you had left the City ;
But on the snow-drifts lingering

At last the skies took pity,
Then Summer's yellow warmed the sun,

Daily decreasing distance
I really don't know how 'twas done

Without your kind assistance.
26



JUST A LOVE-LETTER.

Aunt Van, of course, still holds the fort :

I've paid the call of duty;
She gave me one small glass of port

'Twas '34 and fruity.
The furniture was draped in gloom

Of linen brown and wrinkled ;
I smelt in spots about the room

The pungent camphor sprinkled.

I sat upon the sofa, where

You sat and dropped your thimble
You know you said you didn't care ;

But I was nobly nimble.
On hands and knees I dropped, and tried