Tó a spléndid fúrnished háll
Your grammárian 's the door-keéper,
Hás the látchkey in his pócket,
Shúts and opens ás you bid him,
Bút himself sets foót in 't néver.
CARLSRUHE, Jan. 27, 1856.
"MIGNIONÉTTE in a box! Faugh! it smells of the city
It 's only in mignionette béds I find frágrance.”
Very well: but to mé mignionétte in a bóx
Than mignionette border or béd 's twice as frágrant,
For when I look át it I think of the bóx
Of sweet mignionétte in my Máry Anne's window.
CARLSRUHE, Jan. 27, 1856.
"DO," said pért, little, witty, tart Ísabel once, "Do, I dáre thee, an épigram make upon mé." "Don't dáre me," said Í; "'twouldn't be the first time, I'd an épigram éven on an épigram máde."
WHEN in death I shall cálm reclíne,
Oh! beár my watch to my mistress dear;
Tell her I róse when it pointed Nine,
On évery morning all round the year.
Bid her not shéd one tear of sorrow
To súlly a gém so precious and bright,
But a pocket of crimson velvet borrow,
And hang 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 through them in pássing along,
Oh! lét one thought of their master awaken
Your warmest smile for the child of song.
Keep this inkbottle, now o'erflowing,
To write your létters when I'm laid low;
Néver, Oh! néver one drop bestowing
On any who hów to write don't know.
But if some pále, wan - wasted scholar
Shall dip his goosequill at its brim,
Then, then my spirit around shall hover,
And hallow each jet black drop for him.
SHE 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 nót that maíds still spéll YES só. CARLSRUHE, Jan. 26, 1856.
"THOU knów'st not what liberty is," to me said
A red démocrat ónce, with a shake of his head;
"I'm not sure that I do," replied í, "but let's seé:
It 's that thoú mayst whatéver thou lík'st do to mé,
Whilst I am prevénted by imprisonment and fine
From doing to theé what to dó 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 trúth.
CARLSRUHE, Jan. 22, 1856.
“WELL, the world makes bút snail's progress!"
Thús to Thomas ónce said William,
Ás from chúrch home, ón a Sunday,
Árm in arm they walked together.
"Hów is 't possible the world should
Máke fast prógress," answered Thomas,
"While we reár our children úp in
Thẻ same érrors we were reared in,
While we teach our children, William,
Nót the truths our lives have taught us,
Bút the lies we were brought up in?"
"Áh, poor children!" answered William,
"Let them spórt their hoúr of sunshine;
Tíme enough they 'll learn the black truth,
Tíme enough be wise and wretched."
"Véry wéll; but while succéssive
Génerátions spénd their whole lives
Still unlearning the same fálsehoods,
Hów 's the world to make fast prógress?"
CARLSRUHE, March 2, 1856.
A FORGET-ME-NOT grew by the side of the broók
Where Mary went down with her pail to fetch water;
She laid down her pail, plucked the flower, heaved a sigh,
And till she came back for 't that day had no water.
Nimmer labt ihn des Baumes Frucht, den er mühsam erziehet:
Nur der Geschmack geniesst, was die Gelehrsamkeit pflanzt.
WRONG! as often, my Schiller; the gardener enjoys more
In digging and féncing and plánting and watering,
Than the finest taste éver enjoyed in the fruít.
We all look with pleasure at Tell on thy cánvas,
But thine was the rápture of pútting him thére.
CARLSRUHE, Jan. 2, 1856.
THOU wouldst be happy and know'st not that would
Would, would alone keeps thee from being happy.
CARLSRUHE, Jan. 24, 1856.
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