PROVIDENCE versus CHANCE AND FATE. THE ship struck on a rock by accident, And sánk, and all on board were lost but two, Whóm in the longboat of th' illfated vessel, Álmost by miracle, a kind Providence saved. WEINSBERG (WÜRTTEMBERG), Sept. 3, 1855. NO wonder, reáder, that from all I say Thou túrn'st with clósed eyes and closed ears away, WEINSBERG (WÜRTTEMBERG), Sept. 13, 1855. INSCRIPTION FOR A LUCIFER-MATCH BOX. (I) PROMETHEUS' feát to thine was but a patch, Glórious inventor of the lucifer-match! Thou steal'st not fire, but mák'st it fresh and new; Ánd, what even Heaven forgót, hid'st it from view. WEINSBERG (WÜRTTEMBERG), Sept. 20, 1855. Dówn my head Laid like lead, Clothes tucked in Under chin, I begin Not to sleep, But to weep And watch keep, Wondering why Instantly, And down low, Sad and slow, Tó Styx go, Faithless Joan Away flown, Flown away, Would not stay, Lack a day! Well, let bé! Plain I see "Twould kill me Thé hayrick, Whére, close bý Joán's house, I Used to lie On the ground, "Ás thou me, Tó live free," And a look, Of the brook Ánd grass plat And thatched cot. The fresh sun, His day's run Just begun, Clad with bright Ruddy light Tower and height, And the green Leaves between Glancing sheen, Every ray Seemed to say: "Please, Sir, stay." "Stay! not I; Bye! good bye! Joan," cried I, Ánd, "Heigh hó!” Síghed, and slow Turned to go. Wás't echó Answered: I don't know, "hó!" Bút, turned round At the sound, There I found, Ín her pride, Wasn't I blind Rosalind, Though she 's kind, So to her To prefer, And aver Give one groat, Joan to save |