Well now I'm sure I don't know why in the world it was put there 118 Whý paint Deáth the king of térrors?. "Týrant, I'll have my rights;" I once heard say. Do good to your friend and hé 'll do good to you Draw back from the mirror; your image recédes MY SISTER MARY'S DOG RAP. THE AUTHOR'S EPITAPH. CONTENTION BETWEEN NOSE AND EYES FOR THE SPECTACLES. 129 130 132 133 134 134 135 135 What benéficent Jóve was 't, or Búddh or Osíris . 140 141 No more questions, good friend, no more questions, 'Tis the little boy láshing his tóp in the court práy 143 143 Ás in Tíbur's pleásant vílla. ́. 144 "Twas on the First of Jánuary early in the morning 145 The són 's a poor, wrétched, unfórtunate creáture 148 You don't like my writings, won't read them nor buy them While there's óne drop in the bottle If rightly on my theme I think He's dead these long áges, and áll his bones moúldered. "Págan, forsáke your Góds," the Christian cries "Obéy;" said Majórity ónce to Minórity Beware how you attempt the world to cheat Page "See before thee," said Hópe, "where the pleasant light yonder With pallid lip quívering and fíery eye fláshing 159 159 Pást Time 's dead and gone, and búried, and the réquiem sung óver her 159 TO HOFRATH SÜPFLE AND HIS DAUGHTER EMILIA. TO PROFESSOR GRATZ, ON MY LEAVING CARLSRUHE, Aug. 16, 1855 TO DOCTOR E. TAFEL, ON MY LEAVING TÜBINGEN, Aug. 31, 1855 "So there's an énd!" said I, and from the grave 171 173 174 174 175 175 176 176 Ásk me not what her name was it 's small mátter She never in her whole life wrote one stánza Ínto two classes all men IN FRAULEIN JULIE FINCKH'S ALBUM PROVIDENCE versus CHANCE AND FATE No wonder, reáder, that from all I say These verses, reád, and, having read, tell me This world 's so fast progréssing I do not despair to see yet 184 188 190 THE ASTRONOMERS . The coachman drives, the hórses draw, the cárriage carries Díves There are two sisters; óne with bright. In Róme's old days of glóry, when a cítizén thought fít Well to get through this world there 's óne receipt INSCRIPTION FOR A LUCIFER-MATCH BOX. (II). Clever people are disagreeable, always taking the advantage of you Right for you 's wrong for mé. "Stop! stay! let 's consider!" cried Írresolution 201 202 Óver hill and plaín and válley 203 Warum, mein Kind, sehn'st du dich so nach Oben? 211 212 CASSANDRA. The cause I 'd fain knów In the name of Gód we bind thee to this stake "What's the reáson, Prométheus," once said Epimétheus. O inscrútable jústice and mércy and wisdom! . TO JUSTINUS KERNER, THE SUABIAN POET, ON HIS SEVENTIETH BIRTHDAY. BAWSINT MALKIN. His máster deád, poor Snap with troubled eye 214 215 216 217 219 220 221 Goéthe, thou sảyst a poem was néver good . 221 TO A POET ABOUT TO WRITE IN A LADY'S NEW ALBUM. So many máps, guides, sígnposts point the way QUIVIS AND QUILIBET. Pleasure líves not one instant 221 222 224 224 224 225 227 Évery thing tells on críme; the prínce that kissed A QUEER FELLOW The sun shines ón me áll the day To William, half in jest and half in earnest Man 's a hámmer, thou sáy'st, made to hammer hard náture That mán 's worth millions, but that man 's unworthy. As long as thou faithfully lóv'st me. In this apple 's a core, in that core there's a pippin 228 229 230 230 231 231 . 232 234 234 235 If thou wouldst please the Góds thou must contrive JEHU. Page 236 237 237 237 238 All the good which we see in this world proves God's goodness TO FRAULEIN EMILIA SÜPFLE, CARLSRUHE, Nov. 19, 1855. 240 Well! great póets don't álways the bést sense indíte! 243 243 What a pity thou 'rt childless! thou 'dst beén a kind párent “There it ís, Ma!" said Cúpid, showing Vénus a thórn Nó! no! nó! I 11 nót beliéve it 244 "When think'st thou will áll men be óf one opinion?" I ténderly love thee, and plédge thee my tróth I swear what I knów, that I ténderly love thee 246 246 247 247 248 249 250 250 251 251 Mán with sagácious fórethought pénetrates 252 May I beg to ask whý thou preférrest me, Múse! From blank noúght to the womb, from the womb to the crádle 257 258 258 259 Bad vérses, Sir póet; there néver were wórse 260 The great Róman dictátor, his báldness to hide Here I am, your thimblerígger, kind géntlemen and ladies All Césars since Július have worn the laur'l wreath 260 261 262 262 1 Page Come, my friends, let 's enjoy the good things of this world 262 POET AND PROSODIAN. 263 So here's at lást the long expécted létter! 264 On róll the years, leaves wither and leaves grów. 264 “Heáven, I thánk thee fór this fíne night;". 265 265 Of all flowers in the world, pretty daisy, to mé Tó a spléndid fúrnished háll 266 266 266 267 268 Mignionétte in a box! Faugh! it smells of the city “Do," said pért, little, witty, tart Ísabel once. John 's not to my mind, I abóminate his lying . The wise son of Jápet made mán in God's image Toward hope's beácon far-gleáming acróss the wild waters 270 270 I háte him, the líar, who with feígned words deceives me 278 POET AND FRIEND. 279 I 've chosen a bad títle, I am told 279 "Trust in God's providence," the oyster saíd It's a véry fine thing to be súre, I don't doubt it 282 283 How good must bé the author of all goódness! 284 TRUTH. TO MY LOST ONE 284 285 |