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And as for Sir Wind,
He 's no doubt very kind
And flusters about
And makes a great rout
When he meets me out,
But though I sat lone
By this ingle hearth-stone
All October, November,
And dreary December,
And long January,
And bleak February,
And March and April,
And am sitting here still
In the sweet Month of May,
When the world 's looking gay,
And though past my door,
Times a hundred and more,
He went post day and night,
He never thought right
Even one odd time to stop,
And in on me pop

"How do you do?
Have you any thing new?"
So the fool, he sang true,
And wind, woman, and king
Agree in one thing;
Not one jack-straw or hair
They for any one care
Who 's once out of their view,
And the fool, he sang true.

And say:

ROSAMOND, May 3, 1860.

FORGET the past, fear not the morrow,
Enjoy today and baffle Sorrow:
For things will go – do what thou will

As from the first they have gone still.
GREEN HILLS (Co. DUBLIN), April 28, 1860.

Gott nur siehet das Herz."

SCHILLER.

ONLY God sees the heart. True, of all hearts Except thine own, ingenuous, well loved Schiller! Who nothing hast to hide, and hidest nothing,

And God and Man alike see through and through. ROSAMOND, March 16, 1860.

I KNOW some wiseacres who think,
Old wood to burn, old wine to drink,
Old friends to love, old books to read,
Old hay wherewith your horse to feed,
Åre of all old things the five best,
And turn their nose up at the rest.
Fools! my old fiddle's four old strings
Are worth the whole of their five old things.

ROSAMOND, March 24, 1860.

THE lamp no light shows, when I 'm far

Away from thee;
The fire no heat throws, when I 'm far

Away from thee;
The sun shines clouded, when I 'm far

Away from thee;
The moon 's not risen yet, when I 'm far

Away from thee;
Heavy my heart weighs, when I 'm far

Away from thee;
A blank the world lies, when I 'm far

Away from thee;
Spring flowers droop withered, when I 'm far

Away from thee;
The lark a dirge sings, when I 'm far

Away from thee;
Time's tread 's a déad march, when I 'm far

Away from thee;
Muffled the drum beats, when I 'm far

Away from thee;
To die I 'm ready, when I 'm far

Away from thee;
I 'm dead and buried, when I 'm far

Away from thee.

But be thou merry, though thou 'rt far

Away from me;

' And light thy heart beat, though thou 'rt far

Away from me;
And bright thy sun shine, though thou 'rt far

Away from me;
And clear thy moon gleam, though thou 'rt far

Away from me;
And still of me think, though I 'm far

Away from thee,
As I of thee think, though thou 'rt far

Away from me;
And soon mayst thou be near, not far

Away from me;
And soon may I be near, not far

Away from thee;
And when once more I 'm near, not far

Away from thee,
And thou once more art near, not far

Away from me,
Never again shall I stray far

Away from thee,
Nor ever thou again stray far

Away from me,
Till thy last stray, thy long, last stray

Away from me,
Or my last stray, my long, last stray

Away from thee.
THE GREEN HILLS (Co. DUBLIN), April 28, 1860.

FRAGMENT.

I.

FRANKFORT behind us left and city sights,
And city sounds ungrateful to the ear,
We take our evening way toward Offenbach,
Distant an hour, the frontier town of Hesse.
Level and fair our road along the Maine's
Populous, wide-outspread basin; on our left,
Unseen, unheard, but not far off, the river;
Gardens between, where, watering-pot in hand,
The gardener cares the tender cabbage plant
Or lettuce, for the Frankfort burgher's table;
Walnuts upon the right bring back to mind
Baden's fair chaussées fringed on either side,
From the Black Forest to the Nassau frontier,
With elegant Juglans' oval leaves and round,
Delicious-kerneled berry. Oberrad
Not much affords us or to praise or blame,
And, threaded its long street, we reach, at seven,
Our station for the night in Offenbach,
And close our first day's journey (of one hour),
And sup in Kuchler's honest inn, and drink
Our schoppen Rüdesheimer, and at ten,
Mindful of health and homely grandsire saws,

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