"Dear Maid, unless you close your Eyes And turns their Turquoise into Lead." Now when her Eyes were closed, the Dear, "Without the Light, how can one See?" "If you are sure that none can see Oliver Herford. THE SORROWS OF WERTHER WERTHER had a love for Charlotte Charlotte was a married lady, And a moral man was Werther, And for all the wealth of Indies, Would do nothing for to hurt her. So he sigh'd and pined and ogled, And no more was by it troubled. Charlotte, having seen his body Borne before her on a shutter, Like a well-conducted person, Went on cutting bread and butter. W. M. Thackeray. Rory O'More; or Good Omens THE UNATTAINABLE Tom's album was filled with the pictures of belles From the fairy who danced for the front-row swells But one face as fair as a cloudless dawn Her face was the best in the book, no doubt, For my friend had let his cigar go out, And we're all of us prone to sigh in vain 141 Harry Romaine. RORY O'MORE; OR, GOOD OMENS YOUNG Rory O'More, courted Kathleen Bawn, "Now, Rory, be aisy," sweet Kathleen would cry, "With your tricks I don't know, in troth, what I'm about, Faith you've teased till I've put on my cloak inside out." "Oh, jewel," says Rory, "that same is the way You've thrated my heart for this many a day; And 'tis plaz'd that I am, and why not to be sure? For 'tis all for good luck," says bold Rory O'More. "Indeed, then," says Kathleen, "don't think of the like, For I half gave a promise to soothering Mike; The ground that I walk on he loves, I'll be bound." "Faith," says Rory, "I'd rather love you than the ground." "Now, Rory, I'll cry if you don't let me go; "Arrah, Kathleen, my darlint, you've teas'd me enough, Sure I've thrash'd for your sake Dinny Grimes and Jim Duff; And I've made myself, drinking your health, quite a baste, "Now, Rory, leave off, sir; you'll hug me no more, A DIALOGUE FROM PLATO "Le temps le mieux employé est celui qu' on perd." -CLAUDE TILLIER. I'D read three hours. Both notes and text In bounced a vagrant bee, perplexed, Then out. The casement's leafage sways, And, parted light, discloses Miss Di., with hat and book,-a maze A Dialogue from Plato "You're reading Greek?" "I am-and you?" And I'll read mine in answer." I read. "My Plato (Plato, too,- She smiled. "My book in turn avers "But hear, the next's in stronger style: That two red lips which part and smile She smiled once more "My book, I find, Would make the Cynics out a kind Of album-verse concoctors." Then I-"Why not? Ephesian law, No less than time's tradition, Enjoined fair speech on all who saw Diana's apparition."" She blushed-this time. "If Plato's page No wiser precept teaches, Then I'd renounce that doubtful sage, "Agreed," I said. "For Socrates (I find he too is talking) Thinks Learning can't remain at ease While Beauty goes a-walking." 143 She read no more. I leapt the sill: The sequel's scarce essential Nay, more than this, I hold it still Profoundly confidential. Austin Dobson. DORA VERSUS ROSE "The case is proceeding." FROM the tragic-est novels at Mudie's- But no case that I ever yet met is Like mine: I am equally fond Of Rose, who a charming brunette is, And Dora, a blonde. Each rivals the other in powers Each waltzes, each warbles, each paints- In short, to distinguish is folly; 'Twixt the pair I am come to the pass Of Macheath, between Lucy and Polly,Or Buridan's ass. If it happens that Rosa I've singled To an eyebrow intended for Do.'s, Or I try to draw Dora (my blotter "To Rose." |