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And the rich pictures with their dark old tints
LOVE IN A COTTAGE.
N. P. WILLIS.
They may talk of love in a cottage,
And bowers of trellised vine-
And milkmaids half divine;
In the shade of a spreading tree,
By the side of a footstep free!
But give me a sly flirtation
By the light of a chandelierWith music to play in the pauses,
And nobody very near : Or a seat on a silken sofa,
With a glass of pure old wine, And mamma too blind to discover
The small white hand in mine.
Your love in a cottage is hungry,
Your vine is a nest for flies—
And simplicity talks of pies !
And wake with a bug in your ear,
Is shod like a mountaineer.
True love is at home on a carpet,
And mightily likes his ease-
And starves beneath shady trees.
His foot's an invisible thing,
And shot from a silver string.
TO HELEN IN A HUFF.
N. P. WILLIS.
Nay, lady, one frown is enough
In a life as soon over as this-
They ’re minutes 'tis pity to miss !
Are reckon'd, like days in eclipse;
Pray, lady, smile!
cup that is longest untasted May be with our bliss running o'er, And, love when we will, we have wasted
An age in not loving before !
To tie us together some day,
Nay, lady, smile !
THE HEIGHT OF THE RIDICULOUS.
OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.
I WROTE some lines, once on a time,
In wondrous merry mood,
They were exceeding good.
They were so queer, so very queer,
I laughed as I would die;
A sober man am I.
I called my servant, and he came;
How kind it was of him,
He of the mighty limb!
“These to the printer," I exclaimed,
And, in my humorous way,
“ There 'll be the devil to pay.”
He took the paper, and I watched,
Was all upon the grin.
He read the next; the grin grew broad,
And shot from ear to ear;
I now began to hear.
The fourth; he broke into a roar;
The fifth ; his waistband split;
And tumbled in a fit.
Ten days and nights, with sleepless eye,
I watched that wretched man,
As funny as I can.
THE BRIEFLESS BARRISTER.
JOHN G. SAXE.
In shabby habiliments drest;
And the rust had invested his vest.
His breeches had suffered a breach,
His linen and worsted were worse;
And not half-a-crown in his purse.
And thus as he wandered along,
A cheerless and comfortless elf,
Or complainingly talked to himself:
I've never a client but grief;
And in brief, I've ne'er had a brief !
"I've waited and waited in vain,
Expecting an opening to find,
Some reward for the toil of his mind.
« 'Tis not that I'm wanting in law,
Or lack an intelligent face,
While I have to plead for a case.
“O, how can a modest young man
E’er hope for the smallest progression-
Of lawyers so full of profession !"
His eye accidentally fell
And he sighed to himself, “It is well I"
To curb his emotions, he sat
On the curb-stone the space of a minute,
And in less than a jiffy was in it!
('Twas the coroner bade them attend),
How the man had determined his end! "The man was a lawyer, I hear,"
Quoth the foreman who sat on the corse; “A lawyer? Alas !” said another,
"Undoubtedly he died of remorse !"
An attorney well versed in the laws,
'Twas no doubt from the want of a cause."
After solemnly weighing the matter,
He could not keep his head above water!"
SONNET TO A CLAM.
JOIN G. SAXE. Dum tacent clamant.
INGLORIOUS FRIEND! most confident I am
Thy life is one of very little ease;
Albeit men mock thee with their similes
From the sharp bailiffs of the briny sea ?
Thy valves are, sure, no safety-valves to thee,
Far from thy friends and family to roam;
Forced, like a Hessian, from thy native home,
Though thou art tender, yet thy humble bard