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“Só when we have left our parents,
Ảnd are grown up men and women,
And our liés no more can hárm them,
Wé may téll lies like grown people ?”

Nót a doubt of it; thére 's no hárm in
Dóing whát 's done by your parents,
Núrses, teachers and relations;
Íf 'twere wróng they would not do it.

Máy we say we 're not at home then,
Ás mamma says when she 's dressing?
Máy we say we have got a headache,
When we are only oút of húmour?

" Whén a friend comes in to seé us,
Máy we smile and seém quite happy,
And the moment he has his back turned,
Sáy we scárce could bear the sight of him?”

Yés yes, áll this and as much more,
Twice as much more, yé may do then,
And your children, if ye háve any,
Flóg for lýing, at the same time.

“Shocking! shocking! wé 'll not do it;
Either wé oursélves will speak truth,
Ór at least we will not púnish
Thém for doing what ourselves do."

CARLSRUHE, March 9, 1856.

“Quam satus Iapeto, mistam fluvialibus undis,
Finxit in effigiem moderantum cuncta deorum."

THE wise son of Jápet made mán in God's image
Japet's fár wiser grandson made Gód in his own.

CARLSRUHE, Jan. 25, 1856.

TOWARD hope's beácon far- gleaming across the wild wáters
Thou that cleávest with strong arm and stoút heart thy way,
Swim on and fear nóthing; thou súpp’st with thine Héro,
Or the deep sea provides thee with súpper and béd.

CARLSRUHE, Jan. 24, 1856.

FROM my heárt to my heád, from my head to my hánd,
From my hand to my pén, from my pen to my páper,
From my páper to týpes, and from týpes to more páper,
To thine eyes then, and head, and at lást to thine heárt ---
Dost not wonder, sweet reader, this round-about wáy
From my heart to thy heart was ever found oút?

CARLSRUHE, Jan. 2, 1856.

He died, and the emancipated soul
Flew úpward, úpward, till it came to — héll's gate;
Where it was told, that, having left at night,
It should have gone down, not have mounted úpward,
For heaven, above all dáy, by night was dównward.
Bút the soul being ethérial could not sink down
Through the thick dénse air, and but higher rose
The more it struggled to fly headlong downward.
Só in compassion héll's gate - pórter stówed it
In neighbouring Límbo with unchristened children's
Innocent hélpless spírits, súicides,
And soúls which, like itsélf, had gone astray,
There in asylum safe the tédious time
To while as bést it might till móther church
Decided hów at lást to be disposed of
Convenient Límbo's church - perplexing spirits.

CARLSRUHE, March 19, 1856.

ÉVERY day thát I live adds tó my knowledge
And from my courage tákes; so when I have courage
It 's of no úse to me for wánt of knowledge,
And when at lóng and lást I 'm fúll of knowledge,
I cannot úse it, being in wánt of coúrage.

CARLSRUHE, March 21, 1856.

ONCE on a time a thousand different mén
Together knelt before as many Gods
Each from the other different as themselves
Were different each from each, yet didn't fall out,
Or cút each others' throats amidst their prayers -
“Stop thére! that never háppened, ór, if it did,
'Twas by a miracle; or if it happened
Reálly and in the way of nature, tell me
How, whére, and when, what kind of men they were,
What kind of Gods didn't even the Gods fall out?”
Not even the Góds; I 'll tell thee how it was;
But árt thou trústy ? cánst thou keep the sécret ?
“Yes yes.” Then in thine ear: the thousand Gods
Had áll the sélfsame náme; so every God,
Hearing no náme invóked except his own,
Believed that every man of all the thousand
Wórshipped him ónly; while each one of all
The thousand worshippers, hearing no name
Except his own God's name invoked, believed
That every one of all the whole nine hundred
Ninety and nine worshipped no God but his ;
So all the thousand men together lived
In lóve and peace, as holding the same faith,
And of the thoúsand Góds not one was jealous.

CARLSRUHE, Jan. 13, 1856.

HONEY hére and wormwood there –

But not as each man wishes
Hóney here and wormwood there

Are oúr alternate dishes.

CARLSRUHE, March 10, 1856.

I do not wonder I 'm so often told
That the soul is immortal, grows not old;
So many people, looking inwards, find
in their old bodies a still childish mind.

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I HÁTE him, the liar, who with feigned words deceives me,
And doúbly I hate him, the cleverer liar,
Who, that I may not call him liar, deceives me
Withoút words by silence or gesture or look.

CARLSRUHE, Jan. 13, 1856.

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