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I would not beliéve it

105 BETROTHED MAIDEN SINGS.

107 Eát your oáts, my póny

108 EMIGRANT SINGS.

109 MOTHER'S PRAYER FOR HER CHILD.

109 THE SOLDIER AND THE BRIGAND.

110 TO MY GRAY BEARD.

111 EVENING ODE.

113 Saturdáy clothed in plain drúgget

114 Well now I 'm sure I don't know why in the world it was pút there 118 Ón the dáy before the first day

121 Dire Ambition úp hill toiling

129 Ivy LEAF

130 Whý paint Deáth the king of térrors ? .

132 There wås a time when to our view

133 “Týrant, I 'll have my rights ;" I once heard say.

134 Do good to your friend and hé 'll do good to you

134 LUCIUS JUNIUS BRUTUS.

135 Draw back from the mirror; your image recédes

135 MY SISTER MARY'S DOG RAP.

136 THE AUTHOR'S EPITAPH.

136 CONTENTION BETWEEN NOSE AND EYES FOR THE SPECTACLES.

137 There's nothing I so much admire .

139 From his shroúd the dead man peéping

140 What benéficent Jóve was 't, or Búddh or Osíris .

140 TRAY.

141 No more questions, good friend, no more questions, I pray

143 'Tis the little boy láshing his tóp in the court

143 As in Tíbur's pleasant villa.

144 'Twas on the First of January early in the morning

145 The són 's a poor, wrétched, unfortunate creature

148 You don't like my writings, won't read them nor búy them

148 "I beliéve it,” said Faith, “though I know it 's a fiát .

148 "Éven the Lóvely must die” To be sure, Mr. poet

149 Main Fórce with saw, bátchet and strong rope achieved

149 In the height of his glóry said César to Cássius .

149 Sleep and Wáking once a strífe had While there 's one drop in the bottle .

152 If rightly on my theme I think

152 He 's dead these long åges, and all his bones moúldered.

153 That I 'm much praised by men of little sense

153 “Págan, forsake your Góds,” the Christian cries

153 LETTER RECEIVED FROM A REVIEWER.

154 "Obéy;" said Majority once to Minority

158 Beware how you attempt the world to cheat

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Page "See before thee," said Hópe, "where the pleasant light yonder 159 With pallid lip quivering and fiery eye flashing.

159 Pást Time 's dead and gone, and búried, and the requiem sung óver her

159 HAMLET.

160 ROMEO AND JULIET.

164 THE TEMPEST.

168 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.

171 Here I gó up and down, hop, hop, hóp

173 AUF WIEDERSEH'N!.

174 TO HOFRATH SÜPFLE AND HIS DAUGHTER EMILIA.

174 TO PROFESSOR GRATZ, ON MY LEAVING CARLSRUHE, Aug. 16, 1855

175 August the Twenty Third, in Tübingen

175 TO DOCTOR E. TAFEL, ON MY LEAVING TÜBINGEN, Aug. 31, 1855

176 "So there's an end !” said I, and from the grave

176 LUCEM PEROSUS.

177 Whý so shy of death, sweet infant? .

178 Acúte, observant, witty and profound

179 “Téll me, Quintus,” once said Virgil

180 Ásk me not whát her name was it 's small matter .

181 She néver in her whole life wrote one stanza

181 They sảy I 'm of a Propaganda school

182 Ínto two clásses all men Í divide

182 IN FRÄULEIN JULIE FINCKI'S ALBUM

182 PROVIDENCE versus CHANCE AND FATE

183 No wonder, reader, that from all I say INSCRIPTION FOR A LUCIFER - MATCH BOX. (1).

183 ón my

184 These vérses, reád, and, having read, tell me

188 This world 's so fast progressing I do not despair to seé yet

190 The coachman drives, the horses draw, the carriage carries Díves 191 Wouldst thou convince the doubting world thou 'rt truly .

191 There are two sisters; one with bright.

192 In Róme's old dáys of glóry, when a cítizen thought fít

193 MUSINANDO..

194 THE ASTRONOMERS

196 Wéll to get through this world there is one receipt

197 INSCRIPTION FOR A LUCIFER-MATCH BOX. (II). .

198 Clever people are disagreeable, always taking the advantage of you 199 Right for yoú 's wrong for mé.

200 “Stop! stáy! let's consider!” cried irresolution

200 Summer 's góne fled away with his lllies and róses

201 MARBACH .

202 Óver hill and plain and válley

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Téll me not how much thou lóv'st me.
Í 'll not tell thee hów I love thee
ANNIVERSARY OF SCHILLER'S BIRTHDAY, STUTTGART, Nov. 10, 1855 .
Out of the grave I took for love thy body
Go tó, that thínk'st of Tíme as of a thing
ADVICE.
TO JUSTINUS KERNER, THE SUABIAN POET.
Ás in the printed volume every piece .
DIE WEIBERTREUE
Rechts steht der Aberglaube, Alles glaubend
Der Abergläub'ge glaubt zu viel .
Warum, mein Kind, sehn'st du dich so nach Oben?
TÜBINGEN.
In the name of God we bind thee to this stake
CASSANDRA.
“What 's the reason, Prométheus," once said Epimétheus .
O inscrútable jústice and mercy and wisdom! .
Whíther in such húrry
TO JUSTINUS KERNER, THE SUABIAN POET, ON HIS SEVENTIETH BIRTHDAY.
What 's this? a cóffined córpse? no, rather say
The cause I'd fain knów
BAWSINT MALKIN.
His máster dead, poor Snap with troubled eye.
Goéthe, thou sáy'st a poem was néver good.
TO A POET ABOUT TO WRITE IN A LADY'S NEW ALBUM.
CESAR AND CASSIUS.
INSCRIPTION FOR A LUCIFER MATCH BOX. (III).
Othello says: Thy púrse is trásh .
So many máps, guides, sígnposts point the way
As I walked by the hédge
QUIVIS AND QUILIBET.
Pleasure lives not one instant expires in the birth
Give us beauty we cáre not for strength .
Évery thing télls on críme; the prince that kissed
A QUEER FELLOW
The sún shines on me all the day
To William, half in jest and half in earnest
Man 's a hámmer, thou sáy'st, made to hámmer hard nature
Shadow 's never får from súnshine
JARVIE TIME.
That man 's worth millions, but that man 's unworthy.
As long as thou faithfully lóvist me.
In this ápple 's a core, in that core there 's a pippin
EXPERIENCE. ().
AD CONSCIA SIDERA.

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If thou wouldst please the Góds thou must contrive
So it 's húnger and lóve keep all going :
He 's not a wise man thinks much of the past
INSCRIPTION FOR THE DOOR OF A CLUB ROOM.
JEHU.
Farewéll for ever, and sometímes a sigh
Modest, míld, unpreténding, observant, inventive
All the good which we see in this world proves God's goodness
Arabella my sóng read
TO FRÄULEIN EMILIA SÜPFLE, CARLSRUHE, Nov. 19, 1855.
See yonder státely, spreading treé
Two ángels, séparate or together, páy me
Thou hátest monótony Right
UNDER A PORTRAIT OF THE AUTHOR.
Forget néver to hold thyself évenly bálanced
Well! great poets don't always the best sense indíte!
What a píty thou 'rt childless! thou 'dst beén a kind párent
PROMETHEOMASTIX
“There it ís, Ma!” said Cúpid, showing Vénus a thorn
Nó! no! nó! I 'll not beliéve it
OPTIO JULIANI.
“When think'st thou will all men be of one opinion ?".
I tenderly love thee, and pledge thee my tróth
I swear what I know, that I tenderly lóve thee
Love.
BEAUTY.
Othéllo first loved Desdemona, then hated
Put thy faith in the miracle, friend
The embryo in the womb or newly bórn .
And só into Kunigund's lovely fáce.
Mán with sagácious fórethought pénetrates
May I beg to ask whý thou preférrest me, Múse!
TO THE DEPARTING YEAR 1855.
TO THE COMING YEAR 1856.
Árt thou hảppy? look not backward
ON READING GOETHE'S ELEGIES.
THE FIRST ROSE OF SUMMER.
INSCRIPTION FOR A LAMP.
The ágitating problem which of all .
From blank nought to the womb, from the womb to the cradle
Of threé dear maíds, whose lovely fáces
Bad vérses, Sir poet; there never were worse
Here I am, your thimblerigger, kind gentlemen and ládies
When every one of us has gót his just rights .
The great Róman dictátor, his báldness to hide
All Césars since Július have worn the laur'l wreath

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Come, my friends, let 's enjoy the good things of this world
POET AND PROSODIAN.
So hére 's at lást the long expected létter!
On róll the years, leaves wíther and leaves grow.
"Heáven, I thánk thee for this fine night;" .
Of all flowers in the world, pretty daísy, to me
Joy and sorrow are equally pássive; forced on thee
Two things there are which you may safely say
The cléver mán the rúle makes, which the foól
THERE IS NOT IN ALL CHEAPSIDE.
Tó a spléndid fúrnished hall
Mignionette in a bóx! Faugh! it smells of the city
"Do,” said pért, little, witty, tart Ísabel ónce .
THE NEW “BARD'S LEGACY”.
WISE TOO LATE.
LIBERTY.
John 's not to my mind, I abominate his lying
“Well, the world makes bút snail's prógress!”.
A forgét-me-not grew by the side of the brook .
Wrong! as óften, my Schiller; the gardener enjóys more
Thou wouldst be happy and know'st not that woúld .
Little children, take it kindly .
The wise son of Jápet made mán in God's image
Toward hope's beácon far - gleáming across the wild waters
From my heart to my head, from my head to my hand
He died, and the emancipated soul .
Évery day that I live adds to my knowledge
Ónce on a tíme a thoúsand different mén
Hóney hére and wormwood there
I do not wonder I 'm so often told .
I hate him, the líar, who with feigned words deceives me
POET AND FRIEND .
I 've chosen a bad títle, I am told
“Trust in God's providence,” the oyster said
I thank thee not for lóve or admiration
Íf thou wouldst seé a pássion tórn to tátters
CHURCH RECRUITING SERGEANTS AND RECRUIT.
SUNSET.
PUBLISHER TO THE AUTHOR.
It is a very fine thing to be súre, I don't doubt it
PHILOSOPHUS AND PHILARGYRUS
How good must bé the author of all goodness!
TRUTH.
TO MY LOST ONE

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