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Tó the same import all, and all almost
In the same words varied in form and order
To cheát, if possible, the weary sense,
And different seem, where difference is none.
At th' opposite doorpost, on her knees, Routine
Keeps túrning over still the well-thumbed leaves
óf the same prayerbook; reading prayers, not praying;
Behind them waiting stand Conformity
And Úniformity, Oneness of faith,
Oneness of laws and customs, arts and manners,
And, Sélfdevelopment's unrelenting foe,
Centralisation; and behind these still,
Fár in the portal's deepest gloom ensconced,
A perfect, unimprovable Paradise
Of mére, blank nought unchangeable for ever
Thése as I count them are the Gates of Sleep.

PRIMIERO, in the Italian TYROL, July 30, 1854.

DEATH'S BRIDE.

“So young! so fair! so kind! so true!
Gó, Death, she is no bride for you;
Úgly, rapácious, cruel, old,
With heárt as marble hard and cold,
Gó, seek elsewhere more fitting bride.”
But hé, with arms extended wide,
“Come!” in a voice terrific cried,
And clásped her waist; I swooned away
And when I woke, there Emma lay
Stiff, stark, and cold, in nuptial white,

Death's bride upon her bridal night. Walking from PRIMIERO to CASTEL DELLA BETTOLA, on the SCHENNER (Italian TYROL), Aug. 1, 1854.

WRITTEN IN LA BARONESSA SOFIA FIORIO'S ALBUM. SAN GIACOMO, NEAR RIVA ON THE LAGO DI GARDA, AUG. 25, 1854.

“COME, something for me write, Sir.”

“What, Lady, shall I write?”
“The first thought in your head comes

That 's beautiful and bright.”

“Nay, nảy; I vow I cannot,

I cannot one word write,
I 'm dázzled by those eyes so,

The beaútiful and bright.”

INSCRIPTION FOR THE

ALBUM IN WHICH

LA BARONESSA KITTY

FIORIO SKETCHED THE LIKENESSES OF HER FRIENDS.

Thése of

my

friends are sketches
Which dón't pretend to art;
I have their perfect portraits,
But they 're locked up in my heart.

KITTY FIORIO.

WRITTEN UNDER THE PRECEDING.

I always knew my sister

Was an adept in her art,
But I never until now knew

She had a hollow heart.

SOFIA FIORIO.

San GIACOMO, near Riva on the LAGO DI GARDA, Aug. 25, 1854.

WÉT and dry and hot and cold,
Light and dárk and young and old,
Great and small and quick and slow,
Só the world will ever gó;
Só the world hath ever gone
Since the sun the world shone ón;
If with mé thou thinkest só,
Cóme and cry with mé, Heigh hó!

VILSHOFEN in BAVARIA, June 25, 1854.

HE SHE AND IT.

háppened in a distant clime
Were travelling, once upon a time,
Through every change of wind and weather,
Jólly companions three together:
The first was neither young nor old,
But brown and muscular, wise and bold;
The second delicate and fair,
With soft, sweet eyes, and flaxen hair;
The third was inoffensive, mild
And dócile as a well reared child,
Patient of wrong and in all ill
And hárdship uncomplaining still.
As thús they travelled on and on,
Through heat and cold in shade and sun,
Each óne at night in separate bed,
The first thus to the second said:

“[ cán't imagine, lovely She, Why we might not united be, Right wéll, I doubt not, we 'd agree: I háte a lonely, separate bed; Come, faírest, loveliest She, let 's wed, And leave that dull, cold blooded elf, Hardhearted IT to mind itself; Three never were good company; What thínk'st thou, my own darling Sne ?” “I 'm quite of your mind,” She replied, And will stay ever by your side Through good and bad, through death and life, Your dutiful and loving wife." So said so done; the two are wed; And as they lay that night in bed 'Twas thús deriding It they said: "fr will have all the ghosts tonight; Pray Gód it may survive till light.” The morning came and Ir, before Well risen the sun, tapped at their door: "Make háste, make haste; it 's rising time; Already we have lost the prime.” “We come, we come immediately;" Upstárting quick thus answered SHE; But Hé: “I'll not a foot go,” cried And turned him on the other side. “You will, my dear.” “My dear, I wont.” "You will indeed." "What if I don't?" And will you, cán you, say me nay Ere yét well fled my bridal day?” “I cán and will; you must obey." "Not I indeed.” “You shall, I say; Come báck to bed.” “No, dear, I wont.” "You will and must." "What if I don't?"

“Don't talk so loud; that It has ears."
“I don't care if the whole world hears."
As thús they argued, to the door
Ír with a táp came as before:
“Not ready yet?” “No!" with a shout
At once both disputants cried out.
“Then good bye; if I longer wait,
Fór a cool walk I 'll be too late."
“Good bye! good bye! we 'll follow straight.”
And só at last away It went,
Háppy and with itself content,
And where it liked best the day spent.
What though it lay alone all night,
It slept till noon or rose at light
Júst as it pleased; let it set out,
Stop short to rest, or turn about,
Nó one was there to make a rout,
And answer “Come, Love" with "I wont,"
And “Múst Love,” with “What if I don't?”
In vain with oft reverted eye
Strove fr its comrades to descry:
“Though not in sight they 'll come anon”
Yés, It; but wait not them upon;
The first point settled, their debate
Túrns on the next; good It, don't wait;
Enjoy the precious liberty
Already mourned by He and She.

Walking from Silian in the PUSTERTHAL to LANDRO in the valley of AMPEZZO , July 22, 1854.

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