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CONTENTS.

[Titles are printed in capital letters, first lines in ordinary type.]

Edward 's to the hunting gone.

In what enchanted ground

"Ah! what 's the matter?" oft I cry

I took thee for a rose, thou 'rt but a poppy

OEHLENSCHLAEGER

If I hadn't thee to love I would love something else

INSCRIPTION FOR PEDESTAL OF A LATELY DECEASED POET'S STATUE .
IN A LADY'S ALBUM.

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WRITTEN ON THE MARGIN OF A LEAF OF GOETHE'S FAUST.
"How lovely these flowers, and how sweet the birds sing!"
Believe him not, no matter how he swears

TO SELINA.

Oh, the pink of all mill'ners is sweet Poesy!

IN THE HARDTWALD, BESIDE CARLSRUHE, March 12, 1856 "Old father Time, he loves thee so"

I dearly love the red, red rose .

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Blessed be the man who first invented chairs!

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It's not on the insect that creeps cautious forward
PUTTING A PENNY INTO A CHILD'S HAND.

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I walked, in the sun, by the side of a wood.

The poet must know how to sing.

At the kernel to get, thou must first break the shell
Never spider span so fine.

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And now I know thy bones lie here, vain poet.

One sunny April morning we were sauntering

The painting, to live long, must be a poem

Which was the better poet of the two

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"Proud, boastful Man," 'twas thus the herring said

My book's the wide, wide, open field

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"Of the worst of bad things still some use may be made"

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TO HOFRATH J. CH. DÖLL, ON OUR LEAVING CARLSRUHE, May 27, 1856
Elisa begged I'd go to her

I bade farewell to Antoinette

FOR THE BUST OF MONS. GIAMBATTISTA SARTORI CANOVA

IN THE ALBUM AT POSSAGNO, August 1856.

TO SIGNORA ELISA PAROLINI, ON OUR LEAVING BASSANO.

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TO SIGNOR FRANCESCO AMBROSI OF BORGO IN THE VAL SUGANA
Round this table, bý this lámp's light

Fare thee well! I don't complain that

I saw, in Dresden, on a windy day

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God bless the light, the best thing God e'er made

A little nearer, and a little nearer

Gladly I'd go with my letter

'Twas the heat of the battle at Inkermann

To T. N. COLE ESQ.

TO FRÄULEIN MINNA GEMMEL OF MARIENWERDER
IN POWERS' STUDIO, FLORENCE, Sept. 17, 1857
IN POWERS' STUDIO, FLORENCE, Sept. 20, 1857
"You make áll your books too long, sir,"
With doses small of hellebore, beginning
So father Adam was his own born son
Near ancient Rome there was a place they called
FOR THE TITLE-PAGE OF MY BOOK.

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LOUISA .

Deplore, ye Graces, Chloe's death deplore

I care not to divert, still less I care.

God 's not the word thou oftenest hear'st in Rome

Ás I muttered to myself once

í am the hare; thou, reader, art the lion
Your gift's the payment of a previous debt
if you dón't know what 's a true friend

"Pshaw! the poetic breed 's extinct," said once.
Sing ding-a-dong-díng, boys, sing ding-a-dong-ding
Weigh well thy judgment, thou that judgest me
Decide, kind critic, of what stock we are come

"True wisdom whát is 't?" Let me think. True wisdom
"Halt! who goes there?" the sentry cried

To SELINA.

Fie! you 've só ill writ my verses

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Thou ask'st my counsel in this matter, friend
The wind said to the harp-string:

IN THE ALBUM OF SIGNOR FRANCESCO BARTOLINI

I sing the captain and the pious arms

TO LOUISA, ON OUR LEAVING PISTOJA, April, 1858
On a terrace of the Hradschin.

JOHANNES LEIS, INNKEEPER ON THE BRENNER, Sept. 30, 1856

Their tombs stand on the Appian, with their names

Once on a time I made a great acquaintance

I wish you joy, sir, of a son and heir
Fifty years and five, and upwards.

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Softly thrill

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Can you tell me, my fine little fellow, from what
Gréat big fishes have great big mouths.
The mighty puritan hoped, and he was right
IN EMMA NIENDORF'S (LA BARONNE SUCKOW'S) ALBUM

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CADI MEHASEB

I closed mine eyes and, lo! beside my couch
His lordship had too múch drunk and saw double
Life is a walk along a colonnade

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The letters in the Book of Knowledge run

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Fear, in the evening born, and nursed all night
INSTRUCTIONS FOR A YOUNG POET

Said I to my truelove: "Come, marry me."
"Kéep the real Virgil far away," said Dryden

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There is a way to be beloved.

TO SELINA ON THE FIRST OF JANUARY, WITH A JAR OF HONEY
TO OVID DEPARTING FOR TOMI.
They call her Morning Red. She is a damsel
They call her Evening Gray. She is a matron
Begone, come near me not, O most profane`.
"Fool!" said the sensualist to the laborious.
All the whole world loves twaddle:

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"How do you know?"

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In Error's wood there are a thousand paths.
"Judge me not, father!" said the ingenuous youth
The farmer's dairy and the poet's study

By Youth and Age alike, the present 's borne
Old father Time brings truth to light

It 's true to the letter.

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PROMETHEUS AND IO .
"Pearls before swine, which turn again and rénd you!"
Whether Truth is the child of Time

ANACREONTIC

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"Lay bý your poem nine long years," says Horace

INSCRIPTION FOR THE BANK OF IRELAND, FORMERLY THE IRISH PARLIAMENT

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"Wasting time!" time can't be wasted

Until it's struck upon

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Pretty Moon, whom I so often

A tap came to my bedroom door, one day
There was a time the world admired

THE CHAMOIS - HUNTER.

A rare, scarce yet acclimatized exotic
The old song still, the old song still
EPITAPH FOR JULIUS CAESAR
Whoever most successfully ignores
A POET'S PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE.
Whát race is it which a mán runs
I follow not the rhymer's trade
EPITAPH FOR ANACREON.

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Loyal and full of confidence in princes

TRUTH AND FALSEHOOD

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PHILOSOPHY'S LABOUR LOST.

Eternal youth cannot be and was never

"Fresh fish from Helicon! who 'll buy? who 'll buy ?"

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Look circumspect round you before Danger comes

THE TWO LOOKING-GLASSES.

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Like weeds which a gardener throws out on (the dunghill

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Only God sees the heart. True, of all hearts

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When I was young I had so much of life

A man's a fool, I 've heard it said

LA LENGUA QUEDA, Y LOS OJOS LISTOS.

WRITTEN IN SCHOLASTICA'S DENKBUCH, SEEHAUS, ACHENSEE, Oct. 9, 1861

Thou didst well, Maro, to decree

The art of speaking 's not, to speak the truth

LIFE.

Mine eye lights never on a bearded fop

No cat has two tails, I have heard
HOPE AND MEMORY

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