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LIGHT.

The night has a thousand eyes,

And the day but one;
Yet the light of the bright world dies,

With the dying sun.

The mind has a thousand eyes,

And the heart but one;
Yet the light of a whole life dies,
When love is done.

FRANCIS W. BOURDILLON.

JENNY KISSED ME. 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!

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SHE WAS A BEAUTY.

RONDEL.

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 phase-
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.

H. C. BUNNER.

TOUJOURS AMOUR.

PRITHEE tell me, Dimple-Chin,
At what age does Love begin?
Your blue eyes have scarcely seen
Summers three, my fairy queen,
But a miracle of sweets,
Soft approaches, sly retreats,
Show the little archer there,
Hidden in your pretty hair;
When didst learn a heart to win ?
Prithee tell me, Dimple-Chin!

“Oh!" the rosy lips reply,
I can't tell you if I try.
'Tis so long I can't remember:
Ask some younger lass than I!”

Tell, oh tell me, Grizzled-Face,
Do your heart and head keep pace?
When does hoary Love expire,
When do frosts put out the fire ?
Can its embers burn below
All that chill December snow?
Care you still soft hands to press,
Bonny heads to smooth and bless ?
When does Love give up the chase?
Tell, oh tell me, Grizzled-Face !

“ Ah !" the wise old lips reply, “ Youth may pass, and strength may die; But of Love I can't foretoken: Ask some older sage than I !"

EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN.

WHAT BARD, O TIME, DISCOVER.

WHAT bard, O Time, discover

With wings first made thee move! Ah! sure he was some lover

Who ne'er had left his love!

For who that once did prove The pangs which absence brings,

Tho' but one day

He were away,
Could picture thee with wings ?

RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN.

TO CELIA.

I.

DRINK to me only with thine eyes,

And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,

And I'll not look for wine.
The thirst that from the soul doth rise

Doth ask a drink divine ;
But might I of Jove's nectar sup,

I would not change for thine.

II.

I sent thee late a rosy wreath,

Not so much honoring thee,
As giving it a hope that there

It could not withered be ;
But thou thereon didst only breathe,

And sent'st it back to me,
Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,
Not of itself but thee.

Ben Jonson.

HERE'S TO THE MAIDEN OF BASHFUL

FIFTEEN.

HERE's to the maiden of bashful fifteen;
Here's to the widow of fifty;

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Here's to the flaunting extravagant queen,
And here's to the housewife that's thrifty.

Let the toast pass,
Drink to the lass,
I'll warrant she'll prove
An excuse for the glass.

Here's to the charmer whose dimples we prize ; Now to the maid who has none, sir ;

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