HERE, ever since you went abroad… If there be change no change I se… I only walk our wonted road, The road is only walk’d by me. Yes; I forgot; a change there is—

I entreat you, Alfred Tennyson, Come and share my haunch of veniso… I have too a bin of claret, Good, but better when you share it… Tho’ 'tis only a small bin,

IS it not better at an early hour In its calm cell to rest the weary… While birds are singing and while… Than sit the fire out and go starv…

Mother, I cannot mind my wheel; My fingers ache, my lips are dry: Oh! if you felt the pain I feel! But oh, who ever felt as I? No longer could I doubt him true;

TO turn my volumes o’er nor find (Sweet unsuspicious friend!) Some vestige of an erring mind To chide or discommend, Believe that all were lov’d like y…

REMAIN, ah not in youth alone, Though youth, where you are, long… But when my summer days are gone, And my autumnal haste away. “Can I be always by your side?”

Damaetas is a boy as rue As ever broke maid’s solitude. He watcht the little Ida going Where the wood—raspberries were gr… And, under a pretence of fear

OVER his millions Death has lawf… But over thee, brave D’Ossoli! no… After a longer struggle, in a figh… Worthy of Italy, to youth restor’… Thou, far from home, art sunk bene…

NO, my own love of other years! No, it must never be. Much rests with you that yet endea… Alas! but what with me? Could those bright years o’er me r…

THE DREAMY rhymer’s measur’d s… Falls heavy on our ears no more; And by long strides are left behin… The dear delights of woman—kind, Who win their battles like their l…

PROUD word you never spoke, but… Four not exempt from pride some fu… Resting on one white hand a warm w… Over my open volume you will say, “This man loved me!” then rise and…

With much ado you fail to tell The requisites for writing well; But, what bad writing is, you quit… Have proved by every line you writ…

Child of a day, thou knowest not The tears that overflow thy urn, The gushing eyes that read thy lot… Nor, if thou knewest, couldst retu… And why the wish! the pure and ble…

Mother, I cannot mind my wheel; My fingers ache, my lips are dry: Oh! if you felt the pain I feel! But Oh, who ever felt as I! No longer could I doubt him true;

O’erfoaming with rage The foul—mouth’d judge Page Thus question’d a thief in the doc… “Didst never hear read In the church, lump of lead!