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In parsing ('tis easy to do so with no nouns)
We'll both be content with two personal pronouns ;
And those are enough, I think all will agree,
For none can be wanting, beside she and me.
Reciprocal aid (by all means) we will render
In number and case, and (above all) in gender.
For scarcely a language knows one from the other,
But's always dove-tàiling the sexes together ;
So she'll bring her “ Horn-book,” in order to time her,
And I'll not forget to supply my own
When (thanks to my tutor) thus much has been done
(And the scholar has learned by himself to get on)
When, having explored all the most occult parts,
And scann'd every thing with my Mistress of Hearts ;*
I'll graduate slowly for higher degrees,
(Id est, I'll matriculate more at my ease,)
And seriously think about opening a school
To teach the soft science of kissing by rule,
Where a few parlour-boarders may find a resource,
Who prefer going through a "select private course.”
* An honorary (female) degree; corresponding, I conclude, with our Master of Arts.
Since after my practice with governess Mary,
I must be a l'oly-glot Dic-ti-onary,
I'll “ found and endow" a benevolent college
For practical lectures on labial knowledge.
And thus, having finished my lip education,
I'll write a sweet treatise on -Deosculation.*
# Vide Johnson or Walker.
“ But earthlier happy is the rose distilled,
Than that, which with ng on the virgin thorn,
Grows, lives, and dies, in single blessedness."
“E' un compeudio di tutte le perfezione."
O SÉE you yonder Ladie-three ?--the midmost is the bride, How know you her? I know her well, from all the world
beside,From all the vestal world I mean, I know that jewel bright, And a gentler or more lovely bride, ne'er bless'd a bridal night.
I know her by the orange-flower, that Hymen only braids
I know her by the robe of lace, that is not worn by maids-
I know her by the snowiness of satin shoe and glove,
And I know her the milk-white rose, that's in her breast
I know her by the playful smile, that dimples in her cheekI know her by the joy she shows—she shows, but may not
speak: I know her by that inward laugh, which chuckling seems to say, Of all my young and mirthful life, this is my happiest day.
I know her by that lightsome step, as if she walk'd on air-
I know her by that crimson blush, which virgins do not wear-
I know her by the merry, merry lustre of her eye,
And I know her by that half-supprest, and half-exulting sigh.
O long, my bud of beauty, may that airy step be thine-
And long upon that dimple-cheek may rose and lily twine-
Full long with love may glisten, thy merry, merry eyes,
And never may thy bosom heave-unless with pleasure-sighs.
(Written in an ORCHARD, in the Under-cliff, Isle of Wight.)
“I oft have heard
That angels condescend to smile on man."
“ Cara al mio cuor tu sei
Cio ch'e il sole agli occhi miei.”
Sweet daughter of Vectis,* the stranger-one sighs,
To meet you once more near the mulberry grove,
Where first in the light of thy blue sunny eyes,
He bask'd in the beams of enchantment and love.
Then, lady, vouchsafe, ere the stranger-one roam,
A minstrel's devotion and truth to insure,
Ere beckon'd away to his far-distant home,
O smile once again on the lone Troubadour.
In many a land, where the beautiful bloom,
I've knelt at the altar- of dear woman's knee,