Part 3 (1/2)

I saw a lassie on the green, Ah ht since have I seen, Nor everpale, And overcast

Oh, stay thou lassie, sad and frail, Why seek the night so fast?

I took her hand, 'twas lilea old That flickered out the while

And then she told such piteous tale, And heaved a sigh:-- ”I dreamed that beauty could not fail, ”Nor si, I held hione

”Oh stay me not--this way he past, ”And I ht,-- Alone was she

I heard her laugh, her eyes were bright, Ah me! ah woe is me!

TIME AND RHIME

Ah Ha! A lack-wit is the Tihter, Rhime, To flirt and dance with everybody

Her cheek was fresh, and passing fair When very few did co or swain must worshi+p there, That dared, or fancied to transport her

And often there a sceptered king, And often there a wit or jester, Have fondly kneel'd her praise to sing, And learned how sore it is to pester

But now alas! 'Tis come to pass, She loves the addlest headed dandy

A bon-bon lyric suits the lass, Her Epic is a piece of candy

THE POET AND THE WORLD

A poet caht and his soul in tune, And he sang a song of a na, As sweet and as rich as the lay that sprung, From the forest-wildalone, Hath startled enrapt at the wondrous tone, And thinks on his own youth's ain And his tongue is lashed in its bed of pain, To know at last such music may be

A youth starts up, with his soul on fire, And shatters his harp for solory he has not known, Till hissea, As sad and as weary as spent wings be, In the guideless paths where his hopes have flown

And a ht star and its rising hour, Hath heard the song, and her being is folden To the starry breast of a winged God, In the golden paths of a garden untrod, Which her soul in the lyric depths beholden

But the world hath roused on its listless bed And calls to the ass for his bray instead, And lo! he hath na man lives, and the old man dies, And the God hath flown fro is a word

THE GUERDON