LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. (U|3p + iup|n0|i f xu UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. -Br6W^<2{| D iy\ vS ,(^er^'rocLe. CH<*-^) 3^7 3 «T Copyright, 1893, By Roberts Brothers. -4 // rights reserved. a-329/3 John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. U.S.A. to to wolcott balestier These Verses and Pictures CONTENTS PAGE Anon 13 Young La Folie 15 Mrs. Golightly 17 Rivals 21 A New World „ 23 Friends 25 One of the Flock 27 A Kitten 29 To a Thought 33 Shadows 37 My Dog 40 Une Parisienne 44 The Remembered Lesson 47 Poor Little Miss Flighty 53 CONTENTS. PAGE Her Dream 55 Blind-Man's-Buff 58 Those Stairs 61 From iEsop 63 Fuzzidora 70 Les Papillottes 75 Vere Novo 78 The Latter Fancy 79 Frangipani Si The Plums 85 Veritas 89 The Dancing-Master's Farewell 92 From The German: I. The Court Fool 94 II. The Eagle and the Rhinoceros 95 A Woolly Lamb 96 The Weather of the World 98 For the Safety of the Public , 10c Franklin Square 102 The Giant and the Butterfly 105 To my Old Watch 10S ALLEGRETTO ANON. | HERE dainty lyrics most convene, '"' W/MfUl ^ n song-book and anthology, M^WM \ 'Neath verses of deserts not mean His simple name I often see ; But ne'er in text-book, manual, note, The slightest mention of this bard, Whom yet with credit one may quote, — Poor Mr. Anon, I think it hard! For he, too, sang the faithful breast That 's better than a starry eye ; Sang love and springtime with the best, And cherry lips that none might buy ; With Sydney, Suckling, Herrick, Vere, His place among the " standards " won, And now that name is all we hear Of all he was, — poor Mr. Anon ! Where did he live? What did he do But launch his fancies in the air ? And was his hair worn in a cue, Or loose in love-locks, brown or fair? J 3 No doubt he had dreams of his own — Light may the earth upon them lie ! Strange that so little should be known Of one who died — When did he die? What may his petit no7ti have been, Poor All-forgotten, long ago ? How did his mother call him in From play at bed-time ? Might one know ! What did his love put after " Dear " In her love-letter, when she wrote? What did his wife, with voice severe, Say when she found the blushing note? Charles! Edward! William! Peter! Paul! Or was it James ? or was it John ? The fact is, no one knows at all — Alack-a-day ! Poor Mr. Anon ! Thus I beguile mine idleness While staring at his odd, brief name ; I think of writing to the press On this case of neglected fame. V OUNG La Folie is at his looking-glass, Arranging his blond hair in lustrous locks; He of the careless shrug, the gay " Let pass ! " Perfumes his lips from a rare ointment box And La Sagesse, his Mentor, seeing him So butterfly as never once before : "Wherefore these vanities, this gaudy trim?" =z<^— ^"-ft La Folie echoes dreamily, "Wherefore?" And then, with soft expense of breath, " Marie ! " v-* His grave friend's eyes, so much on Ki^ 1 ^ parchment bent s^cp?^ \ i^-^-^y The budding rose they mostly miss to see, ^ Widen somewhat at this development, i5 " But she is far." " And yet so fine I dress For her, — yea, just because there is Marie ! " " But she will never know," says La Sagesse " And you speak true, — alas ! " says La Folie. " And so," sums Wisdom, " so, of all my toil And teaching, thankless youth, the end is this ! " And Folly, worlds of pity in his smile, "You dear old muff, you don't know what love is ! " 16 MRS. GOLIGHTLY. HE time is come to speak, I think: For on the square I met My beauteous widow, fresh and pink, . Her black gown touched at every brink With tender violet; And at her throat the white crepe lisse Spoke in a fluffy bow Of woe that should perhaps ne'er cease (Peace to thy shade, Golightly, peace !) Yet mitigated woe. In her soft eye, that used to scan The ground, nor seem to see, The hazel legend sweetly ran, " I could not wholly hate a man For quite adoring me." 17 And when she drew her 'kerchief fine, A hint of heliotrope Its snow edged with an inky line Exhaled, — from which scent you divine Through old regrets new hope. And then her step, so soft and slow She scarcely seemed to lift From off the sward her widowed toe, — One year, one little year ago ! — So soft yet, yet so swift ; Then, too, her blush, her side glance coy, Tell me in easy Greek (I wonder could her little boy Prove source of serious annoy ?) The time has come to speak. , <■• t8 -, ,r r.; x w Riwyy Y only loves ! The first is fair, One of those blondes who best may wear That palest rose ; The other 's dark, — nay, almost black, — Displays of hair an utter lack, And needs no clo'es: My pipe, the latter; and the first, Miss Phyllida de Crickelhurst. I love them both — do not I, then! When Phyllida comes on the scene, My pulses move From dead-march step to polka pace ; But when I 'm left just face to face With the other love, I own to a contentment rare I scarcely feel when Phyll is there. Yet Phyllida is — oh, so sweet! That she should just live is a treat. Dear wayward dove, Her one fault is, fterJiaps, her wit, — She plagues me oft a pretty bit ! That other love Has this one virtue over Phyll, A mind to do just what I will. Suppose I have a fit of " blues," And comfort crave, does she refuse ? Or laugh at me ? She 's always there, she may not stir. If Phyllida were more like her, What life might be ! Or if it were the other way, And she were more like Phyllida ! Still, if it should come to a choice, And I could not but give my voice As to which love When skies are dark and winds blow free Should stay to bear me company Beside my stove, I know full well what I should do. And so I think do you — don't you ? fa V£ ^-. But kitten-tails; WmHs 1 A /L^o 'i^ nc V on l ^ e banks not lady- slipper grew r^\ On bills and legs. %{ JJ*S '.In every nest at eve a callow brood -#J|^ Huddle should; And when the crescent brightened in the dark, Puppies bark. ^.^~^\ 24 FRIENDS. E 'RE friends 5 what makes you think we 're not ? We get along first-rate. You don't go 'n think just coz we 've got Nose-bleeds when we separate We are n't best friends, are n't Tom and I? Why, don't you see, Ma, thafs just why ! When Tom and I meet after school, " '11 you play leap-frog?" says I. He answers, casual-like and cool, " Girl's game ! Let 's play ' I spy.' " Says I, "Pish! Good for little fry! Marbles?" says I. Says he, "Not I!" Says he, " Play jack-straws? — I 've brought mine." Says I, " Run home ter Poll, And make her slick yer hair down fine, And give yer yer rag-doll ; We '11 drag her 'long in yer sweet go-cart." Says Tommy promptly, " Ain't you smart ! " Says I, " '11 you play ball? — got my bat." 'S he, "Go to yer grandmother!" 'S I, " Don't you speak to me like that ! " 'S he, "What if I should pre — fer ? " 'S I, "You best mind" — 'S he, ''Don't you fret!" 'S I, " 'U you fight me?" 'S he, "Jus' you bet!" And then we fight. And when we 've done, Our eyes are sometimes black, And all our buttons mostly gone, — He punches, I punch back; And when we 're tired out, we drop ; And when we 've had enough, we stop. But I like Tommy, he likes me ; There is n't another chap Will fight so long or readily — Quick, mother ! where 's my cap ? That whistle 's Tom — where was it laid ? Ah, good ! He sha'tt't tliink fm afraid! 4«#tfe-lMf IN all the church she wore the prettiest bonnet; I It had a rose, a gold-green fly upon it, And wondrously became. All through the hymns her voice soared o'er the others; And now they tell me, many anxious mothers, That she is much to blame. Yes, yes; no doubt. 'T is surely unbefitting To make all eyes refer to where you 're sitting Or standing up at praise. There 's something radically wrong, one fancies, About a maid the congregation's glances Follow in all her ways. Yes, yes ; no doubt. I feel it is my duty To wrestle with this proud, unbroken beauty : But here 's the rub, — ay, here: When I would speak the crushing accusation, — I can't account for 't, — my articulation Grows anything but clear. 27 She turns on me her brown eyes, sweet and laughing, And so my sermon ends in — almost chaffing. To lecture would seem vain When radiant smiles her teasing teeth reveal all — Indeed, when she smiles pleasantly, I feel all — Ah, how shall I explain ! Yet right is right, and wrong is wrong ; and surely (How easy 't were, would she but heed demurely!) This same day I must speak, — Remonstrate with her o'er her erring courses. But as I fear the foe's confusing forces Of dimples in the cheek, I '11 seek her when the summer light ' & ~- is failing; We '11 lean together o'er the garden railing, While by cool breezes fanned The dewy roses shake their heads and shiver, — ^ , And in the perfumed dusk I will deliver My pastoral reprimand 28 A KITTEN. ^j) KITTEN small sat in a fluffy heap ! Regarding a young man Whose study of his upper lip was deep ; Thus her reflections ran. "That slim young man who stands before the glass In his white sleeves, and thinks, — Now o'er his face bright "gleams of pleasure pass, Again his spirit sinks. " I know what ails him, — I, the little cat Born just the other day, — And I smile at him from his best silk hat In a superior, way. 29 w '%*„'"** 6 :-- -f^J r ^ r " ~* r ~ ''""" S3 / /"'' 3C r ^a^ .•"• 5, -^ ' » ' ' r"~ / S „_*< «**' ^^"~y ip- //- ' .J_j 4»~ s> — ■■.-' tG^j^-J -Mr"'" T" ■=>• / »,-is ^ 7 \:r ' *"/^Lj| / ', / ' ' •* ; .-■^y '" And he 's so big a hun-Sp**" - *%$y dred kittens small j , .*r T . Could be made out of >-'■*' t - him ; '^.^ ' .„.. -r* fcT^Sr-' *T£W?!/^'~ " " j^Sb^ y r f ^i ' '- -v V TS^J? v V^ -'--'' ' ' T/^/' \ '-■■ X7 A;- > ■ " But yet I think he will have suffered much Ere his are fierce and fine As mine, and long and silken to the touch, — And I was born with mine ! " 3- TO A THOUGHT. HIS great man in his gloomy den Sat planning some fine, serious thing, Involving fates of myriad men ; And it was morning, it was spring. The high, dim window stood full wide, With no thought to let in the fair Warm light, the good smell from outside, But just a useful dose of air. Yet light from the forgotten sky Came in, and smells of roses, too, And presently a butterfly, — A yellow one, just flecked with blue. 33 The great man's quill paused in the air ; He looked up with a cold gray eye ; What guest intrusive had he there? Dear him ! a yellow butterfly. A butterfly ; yes, such things were Outside, he knew, — out of his line! Of painted wings, still, what a pair ! For such a lady's waist, so fine ! " But flee, you sunny stranger, flee ! Parade elsewhere your golden grace; For this will never do for me," He said, and drove his quill apace. And, as the bright thing would not go, The poor stern great man by and by Took one large volume from a row And placed it on the butterfly. My meaning is, I think, quite clear, You little, gentle, tender thing, Useless, adorable, fine, dear, You sweet, sweet thought to whom I sins: ! 34 The great man in this case am I, What silk so e'er my steel nerve mask ; And you 're the noxious butterfly That lures my cold eyes from their task. And, for you are so dear, so bright. And, for we love you, you must flee; If you preferred to stay, you might, If that were not so, — can't you see ? But pity the great man and me, And take your gay gold wings else- where ; Leave us to labor, as must we, In dens unbutterflied and bare. :M For if you stay, you may be caught And slain with a regretful blow ; Or, poor frail sweetness, you may not, — w And that is worse for us, you know, ft 35 SHADOWS. ISTRESS CAROLINE and I, Carolus, When June glorifies the sky, Go on formal walks together, And exhaustively the weather We discuss. With her barriers of reserve (Chevaux-de-frise ! ) And disdain in every curve Of her profile sweet and cold, She might well a far more bold Rob of ease. So I turn me from the fair Cold-and-sweet, And divert my dark despair Watching two wise, happy shadows Stealing softly through the meadows At our feet. 37 When I drop a pace behind (Shine, sun, shine !) Who dares say she is unkind? See her graceful shadow gliding, Friendly, sociable, confiding, Close to mine ! In truth, her deportment 's stiff And defiant; But that form in sweet relief On the sunlit grassy ground, When there comes a little mound, — See, how pliant ! In flesh she 's majestical More than wish, Goddess — yea, though china fall! But in shadow on the grass there, Trembling, flustered, see her pass there, Womanish. Now her hat-strings brush my ear ; Now one tress Floats so near, so near, so near — Now the gallant shadow there Is going to kiss that shadow hair, As I guess. 38 No ! The sun in sudden rack Cools his flame ; And she says, " Let us go back." So we saunter home together, Chatting calmly of the weather, As we came. 39 &n v«r* 41 A blanket snug against the cold He wears ; and all his steps I know From bell of gold, Whether his leisure he employ Worrying the maid above, — below, Worrying the boy. How he is past conception sweet ! How, when a foe comes, in my arms He seeks retreat! With what zest he destroys my hats ! How he barks out his wild alarms When I say, " Cats ! " You ought to see him paw my dress, If he wants anything, the pet! Scrap or caress ; With soft calinerie unmatched Rub up against my side to get His sweet head scratched. You ought to see him sit and beg, Or give young Green a playful, sly Nip in the leg; And when the worm turns in his pain, Flee, watch his chance, and presently Nip him again! 42 I 've heard him called a pampered brute : The coward charge (preposterous quite !) I could refute With utmost ease, if so I chose ; But that the world is full of spite Every one knows. 43 ,•. He turned his deep-lit, knowing eyes Upon the little maid, Who paused a moment in her sighs. "What ails you, dear?" he said. She stared up where he smiled at her, Then sniffed, " My sheep have strayed ; I don't know where to find 'em, sir." The old man sat down by her crook, Upon another stone, Cheered her, and comfortingly took Her small hand in his own. "For sheep see fit to stray, you cry? Just leave those sheep alone. Leave 'em alone," he said, " say I ! "Just let'em stray and stray and stray; They '11 tire of wandering. You lie beneath this tree all day, Enjoy yourself, pipe, sing ; They '11 all come home ere night, you '11 see, As meek as lambs, and bring Their tails just where they ought to be." 5i I think I must have been the bird Above, for still I seem That precious lesson to have heard From Time's lips, in a dream; And when my sheep stray,- — -not real sheep With wool, as you may deem, (I can't have been myself Bo-Peep !) Not woolly sheep, but things, I mean, That likewise go wrong, roam, — In vain regrets I waste no spleen, But toss off care as foam : I live as if in joyful case, And duly they come home With figurative tails in place. VOW it is no virtue in some folk To not buy loves of bonnets ; but in me, £1 That so love bonnets, this last season's toque Shows every virtue in a high degree. Nobody knows how things they have in shops Appeal to me, — things that I cant afford! soul yearns ; and I still with little sops That Cerberus, awaiting my reward. But I sha'n't be rewarded, you will see ; In thrice-dyed gowns and last year's hats grown old I '11 die of some unstylish malady, And be translated to the streets of gold W And there the harp, the palm! No hats at all — Haloes ! No doubt my soul is not so shut To good but I too feel the higher call At times, and hope for Paradise; but — but — If, for example, there might be a kind Of ante-chamber to the Heavenly Hall, Where I might stay a little, and there find The things I longed for on this earthly ball! Know for a moment how it feels to own A seal-skin sacque, real pearls, fans, bangles, rings, A silver coffee-set that 's not a loan, And perfumes and silk gowns, and all such things ! Then, ushered in where cherubim sing praise, I 'd don without a murmur my white stole, And be an angel my eternal days — Ah, God forgive my worldly little soul ! ' /'It- f/ ' 54 m-l * |Y little love," he murmured in her ear, When her pas seiil was danced, And she came tripping 'mid an echoing cheer Behind the scenes, flushed, smiling and entranced, " My little dove, such loveliness, such charm, Such grace, a very tiger might disarm ! " tffi*ff ' And afterward, when cosily tucked in She lay in slumber sweet, A few red leaves still where her wreath had been, And lead in both her tired little feet, iThere came to her upon the dawn's first gleam M\0%^2uJSuch a fantastic nattered little dr< '"VShe thought she stood in a vast jungle green, Where Indian winds blew balm; And presently a tiger, fierce and lean, ' Came toward her from a screen of rustling palm, / ^°^-- ) A tiger, amber-eyed and grim and sleek, v^<»yj Who had n*t had the least meal for a week.^-H?^! The words some one had murmured in her ear, And straightway she advanced with easy grace, And smiled right in the tiger's glowering face. The tiger, taken much aback, made pause, And eyed with glances cold Her slim shape in its skirts of pinky gauze, Airy and crisp and spangled o'er with gold; He eyed her downward from her hair's red rose, Then upward from her satin-slippered toes. Now she spread out her round white arms like wings, And rose upon the tips Of those enchanting satin-slippered things, A breathless smile upon her parted lips ; She moved along with tiny hurried hops — The tiger sat square down and licked his chops. Then, with the languor of who condescends, She glided where he sat, So near she brushed his savage whisker-ends, And daintily performed an entrechat j And with an unconcern that made him stare Stood five full minutes one foot in the air. She pursed her lips in her most winning way, And blew him a light kiss. The brute looked as a tiger who should say, " Whoe'er heard of so rich a jest as this ! " His yellow eyes with admiration warmed, — And so, the dream ran, so he was disarmed. 57 HE farmer had five buxom girls, — Joan, Betty, Hester, Peg, and Kate; And all had blushes, dimples, curls, Had dewy lips and noses straight. And four, in truth, were not sedate, But Kate was quiet as a mouse, — And I loved Kate, And I dwelt in her father's house. And when at evening work was o'er, The girls and we, the farmer boys, Would clear the great worn kitchen floor For games and dances, rounds and noise ; And when none knew what more to play, Each pastime having served enough, I 'd shyly say, " Let 's have a game of blind-man's-buff ! " S3 Then, while all minds were occupied With searching for that 'kerchief red Of size sufficient to be tied About the boyish bullet head, Kate, with one finger on her lips, Her long, moist eyes on mine that glowed, Would stilly slip From out the busy, laughing crowd, And spend among the window-plants One careless minute casually, Lifting the window-blind, perchance, And gazing out, as if to see : Returning whence, she held between Slim fingers and unconscious thumb A trifle green, — A sprig of rose-geranium 59 That, when the game began at last (She 'd teased it till her fingers smelt), With ease and swiftness she 'd make fast Between her panting heart and belt; And when my turn came to be blind, Fate must have slyer been than Fate, But I could find My little rose-geranium Kate. Oh, happy groping in the dark Through fifteen thicknesses of red ! I 'd stop and make believe to hark, When I would sniff the air instead. And at my sleeve fair Peg would pluck, And Joan into my arms would burst ; B.ut no, I 'd duck, — She must smell of geranium first ! Oh, pleasure ! blindly following That fleeting perfume, haunting, fine ! And when I 'd caught the sweet, scared thing, Mine, for one little moment mine, — Oh, bliss ! for I might kiss her cheek, As was the custom at that date. She 's not so meek As she was then, now; are you, Kate? 60 THOSE STAIRS. iSFjtfgl N going up to bed last night I climbed with little care, And when I thought I 'd done the flight, There still was one more stair ; 'T was late, the lights were out, and so Most grievously I stubbed my toe. And as I lingered, rubbing hard, There came a plaintive noise t > '■;£ Uplifted from the lone back yard. '4 ,J: Said I, "I know the voice; It's Tom. Excluded hath he been; Bad night ; I '11 let the poor beast in." ^1 Descending to admit the cat At the dark kitchen door, I thought when I had reached the mat That there was one stair more ; My progress the dull floor did block, — My nervous system got a shock. 6i I opened to the doleful crier, And, climbing back to bed, Would you believe ? strove to get higher, When I had reached the head ; In truth, upon the topmost stair I stood with one foot in the air. Then I bethought me, " Mrs. R Won't have the cat in nights ! " And I descended speedily To set things back to rights. And, i( Now I 'm safe," I sweetly thought ; " This step 's the last — " but it was not ! 62 FROM JESOP. I ' "f SLY puss (literally puss) Once did so well with pensive purr And great eyes softly sulphurous A fond wretch fell in love with her. And (this was years and years ago), With Pygmalionic fancy stirred, Prayed that she might be changed into A woman; and his prayer was heard. 63 At waving of some magic wand Her snowy whiskers disappeared, Her narrowing lips grew pink and fond, Her fine ears shrank, her temples cleared ; Her eyes assumed a gentler tint, Yet kept their waxing-waning ways ; In her hushed step survived a hint Of velvet-footed feline days. The pensive purr she still retained, And ofttimes arched her graceful throat As if to sleek her tender-grained Skin, as of old her furry coat. She made, indeed, in her new plight, Curling on the familiar mat, As sweet a pussy-woman quite As she had been a pussy-cat. The man praised all the powers above; Nor did the days bring as they flew The least abatement in his love For his fastidious, tender Mil. Until (ah, so it still hath been: Your pleasure scarcely well begun, Some little part of speech steps in, If! — But! — Until! — and spoils the fun) 64 One day before the ingle flame She lay in a luxurious drowse; A tiny sound of scrambling came ; The husband cried, " It is a mouse ! " And then — a veil we will drop o'er The wretched man's dismay and shame To see his fair one, on all four, In hot pursuit of her old game. 65 II. SLEEK dog met a wolf once, long ago, So shabby, oh, so shabby! His rough coat About his hollow ribs appeared to float, Rather than any other verb I know. And he was weary, soiled with dust and mire ; One ear was patched, the other ear was rent; And in his eye a deep discouragement Had deadened quite its ordinary fire. His glance betrayed the sadness and the doubt Of one who has to look far in the past To verify how long since he dined last, And wonders how much longer he '11 hold out. The dog was moved to pity, seeing him. "Come home with me, Wolf," quoth he, civilly; " Live with us dogs a while, and do as we ; You soon will be as plump as you are slim. " This life you wolves lead can't be very gay. Snatched joys I know are misreported sweet ; And then when you don't pay for what you eat, You know there always is the deuce to pay. 66 " Now we have marrow-bones and chicken-wings — " A flame leapt in the wolf's reviving eye : "I 'm coming!" As they hastened, "By the by," He said, "what must one do for all those things?" "Oh, serve a little, fawn on a few hands — " The wolf slacked speed as one who meets a check; And now he spied a mark on the dog's neck. " What 's that ? " " That ? oh, my chain ! Custom demands — " " They chain you up ? " " Sometimes." The wolf stood still, — The shabby, hungry wolf. " It cannot be," He said. " You know, I don't mind starving, free, But I object, Dog, on slave's fare to fill." III. CERTAIN ass, distinguished in his set For extra length of ear and force of lung, At fortune s hands with strange preferment met : O'er his plain coat a sumptuous pall was flung, And thereon set, all brave with various paint, The images of many a good apostle, Pale rrfartyr, pious maiden, haloed saint. Seeing his common step must make them jostle In a way ('mong saints !) quite without precedent, 'T was fit he practised majesty of gait; So with his burden through the streets he went With pace severe indeed, and moderate. And at his passing, — lo ! "What novel freak Possesses," thought this ass, "the mind of man? He bowed to me before not once a week, And now he bows and scrapes whene'er he can.'' He was not long accounting for the change, However, having once begun to try; For in himself full many a virtue strange Became apparent to his sharpened eye. He smiled a slow, becoming, nattered smile : " At last I am beginning to be prized ; My merits, charms, and gifts, ignored erewhile, I thank my stars, of late are recognized." So passed he, pompous, through the reverent crowd ; And when his pent-up joy at last found way In strains of exultation long and loud, The mild saints smiled a little, I dare say. 69 HAT was my rag-doll, long ago. Poor little strange rag-dear ! Her eyes were beads, her hair was tow, Her outlines slightly queer. And yet upon my childish heart All day I squeezed her tight, And, finding it too hard to part. Took her to bed at night. She might be there still, on some shelf, Spending her good old age, In one tucked frock I made myself From grandma's green barege, But that I had a brother, too, My Ben — you don't know Ben? He 's in the Guards now, Seventh, Blue; ! He wore short jackets then. is v\ He was my hero and my king In Fuzzidora's day; I 'd not have doubted anything That he might choose to say. Said he (I think I see him yet, In boyish corduroys, With auburn hair that curled when wet, The gloriousest of boys), "Come, Midget, fly about," he said, " And fetch your rag-doll out ! We '11 plant her in the cabbage-bed, And so perhaps she '11 sprout. m " And then who knows, instead of one, But you may have ten dolls Just like her, handsomer than fun, With fuzzy, flaxen polls ! " 7i I readily complied, though sore My mother heart misgave To see my child thrust head afore Into a mouldy grave. One moment in the unusual air Her decent legs waved wild ; Ben tucked them in with dexterous care. And on them sods were piled. And now 't was o'er, his day of leave, And back to school he went ; I watered her both morn and eve With pains most diligent, Indulging in vast dreams and proud Of an amazing vine, Whose branches should be sweetly bowed With young rag-dolls like mine. IS / \. I But days went by, and nothing grew, And still more days went by, And I felt sometimes rather blue, And half inclined to cry ; Till one day, doubting, yet afraid At such disloyal doubt, I bravely took my little spade And dug my dolly out. Oh, poor ! — oh, altered Fuzzidore ! I thought my heart would break; I cried one whole great week and more For Fuzzidora's sake. 73 When Ben came home for holidays, He bought me such a doll ! A Paris blonde, with boots and stays And even a parasol. He caught me up, and pinched my ear With such a loving touch, That when he said, " D' you mind much, dear? " I answered, " No, — not much." 74 LES PAPILLOTTES. ULALIA sat before the glass While Betty smoothed her hair. The mirror told her how she was Attractive, young, and fair ; Curtius was telling her the same In rosy note, where he confessed his flame. She read with a satiric eye Of passion, hope, and pain ; Then, careless, tossed the poor note by ; l^ry ' j)J * Then took it up again, "Vf And systematically tore, And folded each strip carefully in four, And handed in fine scorn each bit Of rapture to the maid, Who wot how to dispose of it. The beauty, disarrayed, Now crept in bed, blew out the light, Her locks in pink curl-papers for the night 75 She slept; and with each gentle breath The paper in her hair Soft rustled, and, the story saith, Repeated to the air Whate'er stood on it fervent thing, — As if the lover's self were whispering. And through her dream she heard it say, The twist o'er her left ear, — " I vow that I must love alway The dearest of the dear." And o'er her forehead spoke a twist, " That stolen glove I f ve kissed and over-kissed." Said one, " Thou art the loveliest ; Thy beauty I adore." Another, smaller than the rest, Sighed, "Love, love," o'er and o'er. And one said, " Pity my sad plight ! " So Curtius' passion pleaded all the night. Eulalia waking in the morn, Large-eyed, sat up in bed, While vows the tend'rest that be sworn Still whispered in her head; A dreamy bliss her soul possessed, — She rang for Betty; and before she dressed. 7 6 '/'/// •./■/■ if-/' 1 t f 11. >m \ i &J /I Upon a subtly perfumed sheet, As Curtius' own, blush-pink, She penned, with crow-quill small and neat, And perfumed crow-black ink, In flowing hand right tidily, The proper, simple message, " Come at three." 77 VERE NOVO. [From the French of Victor Hugo.] OW smiles the new day on the tearful rose ! Have not the flowers delightful little beaux! All through the trellis where the jasmine clings, Oh, what a joyous flurry of white wings, That come, and go, return, spread, fold, hang still, — Vibrating with a vast, exquisite thrill ! Oh, Spring ! I muse on all the missives sweet That go from pensive youth to maid discreet, — Warm heart-throbs written fair on page cream-laid, M Epistles sent from broadcloth to brocade, Dear lines of love, sad, tender, trivial, gay, Received in April, and destroyed in May. ... And lo ! these light, white things that with the breeze Drift o'er the garden, nutter through the trees, — These snowy swarms I seem to recognize As torn love-letters changed to butterflies ! , \ H- 78 :$Z>CG. *&> ^iM^-^^''"' S %> THR,LATTER FANCY, &£\ & ^ ^mm-i sO-j^R: tawny/lion, great and strong,* >»p /-y , '>' / s ^-*^ f With eyes^of smouldering yellow fire,— ^7 Then the rhinoceros, in placid tone, Spoke : " Poets envy not thee, bird, alone ; When his bold flights as conse- ,- h quences bring i Full many a pointed, free, unpleasant thing From critics, in his galled, writhing pride, What poet envies not me my thick hide ? " 95 Pa a HIS young lamb was not in the least The lamb they represent ; He was a wicked little beast, Not mild nor innocent. When his grieved dam with long appeals His conscience would assail, He would kick up his naughty heels, And shake his woolly tail. And if he found some toothsome weed Such as the flock love best, He would eat thrice what he did need To keep it from the rest. When Mary her white pet would call, Demurely he 'd draw nigh, — Then butt her, just to see her fall, And smile to hear her cry. 96 But if she chanced with bread and jam To pass him schoolward bent, This undeserving little lamb Would go where'er she went. Against her side — a scurvy trick ! — \Zjq He 'd rub his woolly head, y^W\^ And as she stroked it he would lick The jam from off her bread. Till, having heard once how his kind j? Are dinner-table stuff, He gave his undivided mind To growing- lean and tough. 97 Crimson-kirtled maiden, With braided flaxen hair, Stands in her little doorway 4f^s; ^^ Whenever it is rainy, ^(i*&$^\ A P rett y ]ad m blue Comes to his little threshold, As if to note the view.