Thou and I on Southern seas, Thou and I 'mid Northern snows, One hundred years ago, Led an iron, silent life, And were glad to flow Thou and I but yesterday Met in Fashion's show, Love, did you remember me, Love of long ago? Yes; we keep the fond oath sworn A thousand years ago! BUZZ! 46 My name," quoth the man, "is Fine Ear; I can hear all the noises in the world, and all that is spoken therein."-Grimm's Fairy Tales. I heard the steeples pouring forth As they sat so snug within; The measured tread of armies proud, The dash of the restless sea, "And it's buzz!" quoth the world, as on she whirled; And away with the world went we. I heard a martyr at the stake Groan out, "In Domino!" I heard five infants squall at night, I heard a preacher pounding texts To a godly companie, "And it's buzz!" quoth the world, as on she whirled; And away with the world went we. I heard a dainty cavalier Sing to his ladye love, While fountains in the moon-rays plashed, And the lady sighed above; And I heard the click of the cold white dice With curses pealing free, "And it's buzz!" quoth the world, as on she whirled; And away with the world went we. I heard a swan's sweet dying song, I heard the tempest's breath; I heard a lady thrash her lord! (And she thrashed him half to death); I heard a scholar turning leaves; The scream of an angry flea, “And it's buzz!” quoth the world, as on she whirled; And away with the world went we. Yes-music, thunder, growls, and groans, And I could hear no more. I stopped my ears-I howled a prayer, And swooned in agony, "And it's buzz!" quoth the world, as on she whirled; And away with the world went we. A SPARK IN THE ASHES. I went to a gay reception. Last winter in the West, As the beau of the belle of the season, For they told her no queen in story But I did not think of her tresses, A dame in the simplest of dresses Eternal eyes of wonder! How gloriously they rolled, Like two black storm-lakes under An autumn forest of gold. For as Lilith's in her splendor Like an aureole gleamed her head, And a magic, strange yet tender, And the beaux and the belles with their graces, Where were they on the ancient shore? Oh, the sea had blown forth in our faces A thousand years before Sea-foam and weed and clam-shells Why, how did you come by those souls? 7. Locker AN INVITATION TO ROME. Oh, come to Rome, it is a pleasant place, Your London sun is here and shining brightly; The Briton, too, puts on his cheery face, And Mrs. Bull acquits herself politely. The Romans are an easy-going race, With simple wives more dignified than sprightly; I see them at their doors, as day is closing, Prouder than duchesses, and more imposing. A sweet far niente life promotes the graces, Their clime and tongue are much in harmony :— Oh, come to Rome, nor be content to read |