THE old song still, the old song still, Blackbirds and thrushes, every spring, And why should I that old song love Why, just because a thousand times, For others sing new-fangled airs, The baby, at the nurse's breast, ROSAMOND, RATHGAR ROAD, Sept. 30, 1859. EPITAPH FOR JULIUS CAESAR. I CAME, I saw, I conquered, and lie here. ROSAMOND, Jan. 26, 1860. WHOEVER most successfully ignores Intrusive Nature, and has best by heart In all the world beyond, that man 's the rudest. ROSAMOND, Febr. 10, 1860. A POET'S PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE, WRITTEN FOR EMMA NIENDORF'S ALBUM. TO EMMELINE. Paper, pén, ink, hand combine ROSAMOND, January 23, 1860, WHAT race is it which a mán runs Faster, faster, every moment, ROSAMOND, May 9, 1859. I FOLLOW not the rhymer's trade; To please himself, Correggio drew; ROSAMOND, Sept. 30, 1859, EPITAPH FOR ANACREON. GOD's providence in every thing is clear: To dry the grape and eat, is an abuse; Squeeze, strain, ferment, and drink the heavenly juice. ROSAMOND, April 28, 1859. LOYAL and full of confidence in princes, Less loyal, I, and of small faith in princes And never yét known to ignore, disdainful, ROSAMOND, Febr. 15, 1860. *Dublin, which has a statue of Moore, has none of Swift. TRUTH AND FALSEHOOD. "How canst thou doubt that Time 's my sire?" Said Truth to me, one day, As, arm in arm, with her I walked, "I do not doubt," said I, "for Time Truth's sister she must be.” "For shame!" said Truth, "to taunt me so;" And slipped her arm from mine; "The fault is not in me, but in Those purblind eyes of thine, "That dó not, or that cannot, see The difference between Truth's simple, unaffected air, And Falsehood's studied mien." So said, she turned, and left me there, Until, methought, I heard again Her voice's silver tone. |