TRIOLET

"I LOVE you, my lord!"
Was all that she said-
What a dissonant chord,
"I love you, my lord!"
Ah! how I abhorred

That sarcastic maid!

"I love you? My Lord!"

Was all that she said.

Paul T. Gilbert.

BESSIE BROWN, M.D.

'TWAS April when she came to town;

The birds had come; the bees were swarming. Her name, she said, was Doctor Brown;

I saw at once that she was charming. She took a cottage tinted green,

Where dewy roses loved to mingle;
And on the door, next day, was seen
A dainty little shingle.

Her hair was like an amber wreath;
Her hat was darker, to enhance it.
The violet eyes that glowed beneath
Were brighter than her keenest lancet,
The beauties of her glove and gown
The sweetest rhyme would fail to utter.
Ere she had been a day in town.
The town was in a flutter.

The gallants viewed her feet and hands,
And swore they never saw such wee things;
The gossips met in purring bands,

And tore her piecemeal o'er the tea-things.
The former drank the Doctor's health
With clinking cups, the gay carousers;
The latter watched her door by stealth,
Just like so many mousers.

A Sketch from the Life

But Doctor Bessie went her way,
Unmindful of the spiteful cronies,
And drove her buggy every day

Behind a dashing pair of ponies.
Her flower-like face so bright she bore

I hoped that time might never wilt her.
The way she tripped across the floor
Was better than a philter.

Her patients thronged the village street;
Her snowy slate was always quite full.
Some said her bitters tasted sweet,

And some pronounced her pills delightful.
'Twas strange-I knew not what it meant-
She seemed a nymph from Eldorado;
Where'er she came, where'er she went,
Grief lost its gloomy shadow.

Like all the rest I, too, grew ill;
My aching heart there was no quelling.

I tremble at my doctor's bill

And lo! the items still are swelling.

The drugs I've drunk you'd weep to hear!
They've quite enriched the fair concocter,
And I'm a ruined man, I fear,

Unless I wed the Doctor!

121

Samuel Minturn Peck.

A SKETCH FROM THE LIFE

ITs eyes are gray;

Its hair is either brown

Or black;

And, strange to say,

Its dresses button down

The back!

It wears a plume

That loves to frisk around

My ear.

It crowds the room

With cushions in a mound
And queer

Old rugs and lamps

In corners à la Turque

And things.

It steals my stamps,

And when I want to work
It sings!

It rides and skates

But then it comes and fills
My walls

With plaques and plates

And keeps me paying bills
And calls.

It's firm; and if

I should my many woes
Deplore,

'Twould only sniff

And perk its little nose

Some more.

It's bright, though small;

Its name, you may have guessed,

Is "Wife."

But, after all,

It gives a wondrous zest

To life!

Arthur Guiterman.

MINGUILLO'S KISS

SINCE for kissing thee, Minguillo,
Mother's ever scolding me,

Give me swiftly back, thou dear one,
Give the kiss I gave to thee.

Give me back the kiss-that one, now;

A Kiss in the Rain

Let my mother scold no more;
Let us tell her all is o'er:
What was done is all undone now.
Yes, it will be wise, Minguillo,

My fond kiss to give to me;
Give me swiftly back, thou dear one,
Give the kiss I gave to thee.
Give me back the kiss, for mother

Is impatient-prithee, do!

For that one thou shalt have two:

Give me that, and take another.

Yes, then will they be contented,
Then can't they complain of me;
Give me swiftly back, thou dear one,
Give the kiss I gave to thee.

123

Unknown.

A KISS IN THE RAIN

ONE stormy morn I chanced to meet
A lassie in the town;

Her locks were like the ripened wheat,
Her laughing eyes were brown.

I watched her as she tripped along
Till madness filled my brain,

And then-and then-I know 'twas wrong

I kissed her in the rain!

With rain-drops shining on her cheek,

Like dew-drops on a rose,

The little lassie strove to speak

My boldness to oppose;

She strove in vain, and quivering

Her fingers stole in mine;

And then the birds began to sing,

The sun began to shine.

Oh, let the clouds grow dark above,
My heart is light below;

'Tis always summer when we love,
However winds may blow;

And I'm as proud as any prince,

All honors I disdain:

She says I am her rain beau since

I kissed her in the rain.

Samuel Minturn Peck.

THE LOVE-KNOT

TYING her bonnet under her chin,
She tied her raven ringlets in;
But, not alone in the silken snare
Did she catch her lovely floating hair,
For, tying her bonnet under her chin,
She tied a young man's heart within.

They were strolling together up the hill,
Where the wind comes blowing merry and chill;
And it blew the curls, a frolicsome race,
All over the happy peach-coloured face,
Till, scolding and laughing, she tied them in,
Under her beautiful dimpled chin.

And it blew a colour bright as the bloom
Of the pinkest fuchsia's tossing plume,
All over the cheeks of the prettiest girl
That ever imprisoned a romping curl,
Or, in tying her bonnet under her chin,
Tied a young man's heart within.

Steeper and steeper grew the hill-
Madder, merrier, chillier still-

The western wind blew down and played
The wildest tricks with the little maid,
As, tying her bonnet under her chin,
She tied a young man's heart within.

Oh, western wind, do you think it was fair
To play such tricks with her floating hair?-
To gladly, gleefully do your best

To blow her against the young man's breast,