Tó a splendid furnished håll
Yoúr grammárian 's the door-keeper,
Hás the latchkey in his pocket,
Shúts and opens ás you bid him,
Bút himself sets foot in 't néver.
CARLSRUHE, Jan. 27, 1856.
“MIGNIONÉTTE in a bóx! Faugh! it smells of the city
It 's only in mignionette béds I find fragrance.”
Very well: but to mé mignionette in a box
Than mignionette border or béd 's twice as fragrant,
For when I look at it I think of the box
Of sweet mignionette in my Máry Anne's window.
CARLSRUHE, Jan. 27, 1856.
“Do,” said pért, little, witty, tart Ísabel ónce, “Do, I dáre thee, an épigram máke upon mé.” “Don't dáre me," said Í; “'twouldn't bé the first time, I'd an épigram éven on an épigram máde."
When in death I shall cálm recline,
Oh! bear my watch to my mistress dear;
Téll her I róse when it pointed Nine,
On every morning all round the year.
Bid her not shed one tear of sorrow
To súlly a gém so precious and bright,
But a pocket of crímson velvet borrow,
And háng it beside her bed every night.
When the light of mine eyes is o’er,
Take my spécs to Optician's Hall,
And let the porter that answers the door,
Show them to all that happen to call.
Then if some bárd, who roams forsaken,
Should bég a peep throúgh them in passing along,
Oh! lét one thought of their master awaken
Your wármest smile for the child of song.
Keep this inkbottle, now o'erflowing,
To write your létters when I 'm laid low;
Néver, Oh! never one drop bestowing
On any who hów to write don't know.
But if some pále, wan - wasted scholar
Shall díp his goosequill at its brim,
Then, thén my spirit around shall hover,
And hállow each jet black drop for him.
Sue blúshed, and yet I did not count it Y,
Nor É though on the ground she bent her eye,
Nor S although she sighed when she said Nó –
Foól! that knew not that maids still spell YES só.
CARLSRUHE, Jan. 26, 1856.
“Tuou know'st not what liberty is,” to me said
A red démocrat önce, with a shake of his head;
“I 'm not sure that I do," replied í, “but let 's see:
It 's that thoú mayst whatever thou lík'st do to mé,
Whilst Í am prevented by imprisonment and fine
From doing to thee what to do I'd incline."
CARLSRUHE, Jan. 14, 1856.
JOHN 's not to my mind, I abóminate his lying
But William 's far worse with his nothing but truth.
CARLSRUHE, Jan. 22, 1856.
“WÉLL, the world makes bút snail's progress!"
Thús to Thomas once said William,
Ás from chúrch home, on a Sunday,
Árm in árm they walked together.
“Hów is 't possible the world should
Máke fast progress,” ánswered Thomas,
“While we rear our children úp in
The same errors we were reared in,
While we teach our children, William,
Nót the trúths our lives have taught us,
Bút the liés we were brought up in ?”
“Ah, poor children!" answered William,
“Let them spórt their hour of sunshine;
Time enough they 'll leárn the black truth,
Time enoúgh be wise and wretched.”
“Véry well; but while successive
Génerations spend their whole lives
Still unleárning the same fálsehoods,
Hów 's the world to máke fast prógress ?”
CARLSRUHE, March 2, 1856.
A FORGÉT-ME-NOT gréw by the side of the brook
Where Máry went down with her pail to fetch wáter;
She laid down her pail, plucked the flower, heaved a sigh,
And till she came back for 't that dáy had no water.
Der gelehrte Arbeiter.
Nimmer labt ihn des Baumes Frucht, den er mühsam erziehet:
Nur der Geschmack geniesst, was die Gelehrsamkeit pflanzt.
SCHILLER.
WRONG! as óften, my Schiller; the gardener enjoys more
In digging and féncing and planting and watering,
Than the finest taste ever enjoyed in the fruit.
We áll look with pleasure at Téll on thy cánvas,
But thíne was the rápture of pútting him thére.
THOU wouldst be háppy and know'st not that would
Would, would alóne keeps thee from being háppy.
CARLSRUHE, Jan. 24, 1856.
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