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'TWAS in my study as I sat,

One dark November day,
Fretting about I know not what,

And wishing it were May,

An ugly, wrinkled carle came in,

With leaden eyes and dull,
And set himself right opposite me,

And in my face stared full.

Not one blessed word he said to me,

But ever and anon
Groaned just as if his heart would break

Be sure, I wished him gone.

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His elbow on the table propped,

His chin upon his hand,
He looked, for all the world, like one

Who 'd lost both house and land.

He sat and sat, and stared at me,

I sat, and stared at him,
Just like two squatting frogs you 've seen

Beside a puddle's brim.

His jaundiced cheek, turned chocolate, first,

Then deep grass - green, then blue,
And every time his colour changed,

I doubt not mine changed too.

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“I 'm waiting now since half past Three,

With shawl and bonnet on."
"Come in," said I, "and see who 's here"

But lo! the carle was gone.

"And so it is and always was,

My own dear Eleanore!
Before thee fly my phantoms blue,

As night, the morn before."

CARLSRUHE, May 18, 1856.

PLANT a robinia on your poet's grave,
With delicate, green leaves and sweet, white flowers,
And prickles for the rude, offensive hand,
For to the kindly he was sweet and fragrant,
And only the unkindly felt his prickles.

CARLSRUHE, March 5, 1856.

THE EMIGRE.

Forty years absent from his native Loire,
He walked, one day, along St. Lawrence' banks,
And, as he walked, kept plucking, one by one,
The tender petals of a full-blown rose
He had in his hand, till not even one was left.
But when he saw the rose-cup bare and blank,
He sighed and of his home thought, smiling, once,
And rich with a large, happy family,
But now plucked bare by Time's hand
Withered, or dead, or scattered to the winds.
So with scarce conscious hand the emigré
Let fall into the stream the naked rose-stalk,
And, having a while watched it seaward carried,
Turned away lonely, and sat down and wept.

every leaflet

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NEVER was king so royally
Served, as I by my housemaids three:
My first maid's name is Industry,
My second maid's name is Honesty,
My third maid's name 's Frugality.
Happy we live, right happily,
Together, I and my housemaids three.

CARLSRUHE, May 8, 1856.

“No summer 's by one swallow made,

I 've still heard people say,
And yet, methinks, cold winter comes

Each time thou fliest away."

Thus to a shepherd youth said once

A simple shepherd maid,
As, gathering buttercups, along

The river's bank they strayed:

“I don't know how that is,” said he;

"Perhaps the saying 's not true, But lest it should be, come with me,

And we 'll be swallows two;

“And 'twill be summer still with us,

Let's fly where'er we may,
Along the meads, or o'er the hills

And mountains far away.”

She went with him, the shepherd maid,

She went with him, that day,
And of them both I think each time

The swallows come in May.

CARLSRUHE, May 12, 1856.

THERE are two words the German says

Oftener than any prayer,
The first of them it is “wohin ?”

The second is “wohér?"

Wohin? wohér? Upon mine ear

Wohín ? grates like a curse;
But when I hear him cry “wohér?”

Methinks wohér? sounds worse.

CARLSRUHE, May 15, 1856.

A cold heart and unfurnished head

The man leave desolate,
Allied to princes though he be,

And boundless his estate.

But to the man of generous heart,

And loved, O Muse! by thee,
Even hermits cell, and wilderness

Teem with society.

CARLSRUHE, May 19, 1856.

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