K. An' she'll live as she is, an' she'll die as she is, Gibson. L.-He's lo'ed thee o'er truly to seek a new dearie, 4. G. Her heart is a music-box, dearest, At a single rude touch it would break, Its fairy-like whispers to wake! She learned it of Cupid one day It begins with, and ends with "I love !" "I love!" Your heart echoes to it "I love !" Mrs. Osgood. L.-Forever thine, whate'er his heart betide, Shall leave thee love till life itself be past. K. Forever thine!-mid fashion's heartless throng A. A. Watts. 5. All will be well, Much happiness will be thy portion yet. Love will be with thee, breathing his native air, And peace around thee through the power of Love. 6. Taylor. G.--Your fair will be a preacher, Inspired when she is vexed! the'll never lack a sermon, And you will be the text! he'll preach of all your faults and flaws, But most she'll hate, aye, more than all, The faults she cannot find. Ebenezer Elliot. L.-When he at table takes his place, Whatever be the meat, He first will chide, and then say grace If so disposed, will eat. Too fat, too lean, too hot, too cold, He ever will complain; Too raw, too roast, too young, too cold, K. Let it be flesh, or fowl or fish, But he'll find fault with every dish, And when he goes to bed at night, That he must part with his delight- And much abate his sorrow; 7. Andrew Simpson. 1690 G. The poets tell of Eastern pearls, But fair New England's factory girls In greater splendor shine. D. Cooper Vail. L.-Who's born for sloth? To some we find The ploughshare's annual toil assigned; He'll the swift sliding shuttle throw. Gay. K. 8. G.-Alas! that Dame Fortune, who goes her way Dispensing as sheer caprice may say By far the best of the matter- Will give nothing to her, and ditto to you, Then let no false hopes flatter. Dodge's Lit. Museum. L.-Oh, sweetly is bedecked your bower, Here treads the foot on springing buds, The massy curtains graceful flow, The vase, the painting warm, Revealing the fair form; Exotics that perfume the air With odors sweet and strange, With countless gifts of taste and art K. Are laid upon your household shrine, Caroline Gilman. 1 9. G.-Don't search for "an angel" a minute; In this world are rather uncommon, You'd be better content with a woman; A beautiful azure-eyed elf, With virtues and graces in plenty, And no failing but loving yourself. Saxe. L.-His eyes they are dark, sharp, piercing and keen, 10. G. When September's golden day, Serenely still, intensely bright, |