WHEN I would laugh a little at The follies that in Life aboundet… What ails the saint I worship, th… She with a frown my spirit woundet… Is laughter sin? ah, then full wel…

DON’T spur us so: you’ll ever fi… When you will ride at giddy paces There’s always something in the wi… At which ere long you’ll twist you… What, we’re but steeds whom no one…

SECURE within his citadel, my h… A roystering King, has quaft his… At pleasure’s sparkling fount,—has… Has hugg’d the phantom of delight—… Not dreaming from his sleep he’d e…

THE baleful era of King Gold has… And men disgusted with the part th… From out the temple of their heart… The idols that debased the souls t… Man yet hath passions and the caus…

Last night at the Fair did I lose… I hunted thee south and I hunted… I’d rather than lost thee have los… That all the great lords in the ki… Heart-sorry in worry and flurry di…

YOU turn up your nose at me? I suppose, I’m noisome and base? Before on my head you cruelly trea… Give ear to my case. A lily-bell rare, my charms were l…

LO the day begins to rise, And the shadows of the night, Overtaken with surprise, Blushing fly his presence bright; Cease thy briny tears to flow,

MERRY, lark-like, merry, At the break of day, Polly meeteth Harry Coming down the way; And her lips, they quiver,

MY mother bade me go. I went: But beat my heart, ere I returned… A rat-tat-tan, and what it meant Too soon I to my sorrow learned. Her errand to the youth I ran,

PARTLY from deference to the opinion of a few well-wishers, and partly from an impression that it would be proper so to do, I beg leave to state that the author of the following Lyrics ...

My heart is away with the lad of… And never can I to another be tie… Not, not to be titled a lord’s wed… Could Jinny abandon the lad of Be… He dances so clever, he whistles s…

AH me! my heart is like to break, The envied rose upon my cheek, The blood red rose is cold and ble… Now Robin slighteth me. Alas! a shadow lone and pale

‘You wont!’ the Rose’s accents ri… ‘I will!’ the Golden Bee’s are ri… And tho’ the winds, to aid her, sp… Soon with the breeze-tost bloom he… swinging.

FROM all that I have seen or hea… This world, is but an empty show, And only can the heart afford What tends to bitter strife and wo… Nay in its clutch, do what we will…

AT Backworth sung till echo rung, A bard whose feelings were, In what to young and old he sung Of little Dolly Dare. ‘Tho’ Lizzy’s sweet and Polly’s n…