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So that when (Ah joy !) our singer

For his truant string
Feels with disconcerted finger,

What does cricket else but fling
Fiery heart forth, sound the note
Wanted by the throbbing throat?


Ay and, ever to the ending,

Cricket chirps at need, Executes the hand's intending,

Promptly, perfectly, — indeed Saves the singer from defeat With her chirrup low and sweet.


Till, at ending, all the judges

Cry with one assent « Take the prize - a prize who grudges

Such a voice and instrument? Why, we took your lyre for harp, So it shrilled us forth F sharp!”


Did the conqueror spurn the creature,

Once its service done?
That's no such uncommon feature

In the case when Music's son
Finds his Lotte's power too spent
For aiding soul-development.

St. 11. when Music's son, etc. : a fling at Goethe.

I 2.

No! This other, on returning

Homeward, prize in hand, Satisfied his bosom's yearning :

(Sir, I hope you understand !) - Said “ Some record there must be Of this cricket's help to me!”

So, he made himself a statue :

Marble stood, life-size ;
On the lyre, he pointed at you,

Perched his partner in the prize ;
Never more apart you found
Her, he throned, from him, she crowned.

That's the tale : its application?

Somebody I know
Hopes one day for reputation

Through his poetry that's — Oh,
All so learned and so wise
And deserving of a prize!

15. If he gains one, will some ticket,

When his statue's built, Tell the gazer

“ 'Twas a cricket Helped my crippled lyre, whose lilt Sweet and low, when strength usurped Softness' place i' the scale, she chirped?

16. “For as victory was nighest,

While I sang and played,

With my lyre at lowest, highest,

Right alike, one string that made * Love' sound soft was snapt in twain, Never to be heard again, –

17. “ Had not a kind cricket fluttered,

Perched upon the place
Vacant left, and duly uttered

Love, Love, Love,' whene'er the bass
Asked the treble to atone
For its somewhat sombre drone."

18. But you

don't know music! Wherefore Keep on casting pearls To a - poet? All I care for

Is — to tell him that a girl's “Love"

comes aptly in when gruff Grows his singing. (There, enough !)



What is he buzzing in my ears?

“ Now that I come to die, Do I view the world as a vale of tears?

Ah, reverend sir, not I !


What I viewed there once, what I view again

Where the physic bottles stand
On the table's edge, — is a suburb lane,

With a wall to my bedside hand.

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To mine, it serves for the old June weather

Blue above lane and wall;
And that farthesc bottle labelled “ Ether"

Is the house o'er-topping all.

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What right had a lounger up their lane?

But, by creeping very close, With the good wall's help, — their eyes might strain

And stretch themselves to Oes,


Yet never catch her and me together,

As she left the attic, there,
By the rim of the bottle labelled “ Ether,"

And stole from stair to stair,


9. And stood by the rose-wreathed gate.

We loved, sir used to meet : How sad and bad and mad it was —

But then, how it was sweet !



DEAR, had the world in its caprice

Deigned to proclaim " I know you both,

Have recognized your plighted troth, Am sponsor for you : live in peace!” How many precious months and years

Of youth had passed, that speed so fast,

Before we found it out at last, The world, and what it fears ?


How much of priceless life were spent

With men that every virtue decks,
And women models of their

Society's true ornament,
Ere we dared wander, nights like this,

Through wind and rain, and watch the Seine,

And feel the Boulevart break again To warmth and light and bliss ?

3. I know! the world proscribes not love;

Allows my finger to caress

Your lips' contour and downiness, Provided it supply a glove.

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