Dear, near and true--no truer Time himself
Can prove you, though he make you evermore
Dearer and nearer, as the rapid of life
Shoots to the fall--take this and pray that he
Who wrote it, honouring your sweet faith in him,
May trust himself; and after praise and scorn,
As one who feels the immeasurable world,
Attain the wise indifference of the wise;
And after Autumn past--if left to pass
His autumn into seeming-leafless days--
Draw toward the long frost and longest night,
Wearing his wisdom lightly, like the fruit

We happy hearts for nothing are
If not for ringing praises;
A song for Summer, near and far,
From hilltop down to daisies!

We wind her hair with leaves and flowers,
In places green and shady;
We are the happy summer hours,
And Summer is our Lady.

Come, sing with us! the while we run
Is Summer going, going.
Some say she loves the roving sun;
There is no knowing, knowing.

Dear Mr. Noman, does it ever strike you,
The more we see of you, the less we like you?

" DEAR me! what signifies a pin,
Wedged in a rotten board?
I'm certain that I won't begin,
At ten years old, to hoard!
I never will be called a miser;
That I'm determined," said Eliza.

So onward tripped the little maid,
And left the pin behind,
Which very snug and quiet laid,
To its hard fate resigned;
Nor did she think (a careless chit)
'Twas worth her while to stop for it.

Next day a party was to ride
To see an air balloon;
And all the company beside,
Were dressed and ready soon:

Dear March, come in!
How glad I am!
I looked for you before.
Put down your hat —
You must have walked —
How out of breath you are!
Dear March, how are you?
And the rest?
Did you leave Nature well?
Oh, March, come right upstairs with me,
I have so much to tell!

I got your letter, and the birds';
The maples never knew
That you were coming, — I declare,
How red their faces grew!
But, March, forgive me —
And all those hills
You left for me to hue;
There was no purple suitable,
You took it all with you.

Dear Mamma, if you just could be
A tiny little girl like me,
And I your mamma, you would see
How nice I'd be to you.
I'd always let you have your way;
I'd never frown at you and say,
"You are behaving ill today,
Such conduct will not do."

I'd always give you a jelly-cake
For breakfast, and I 'd never shake
My head, and say, "You must not take
So very large a slice."
I'd never say, "My dear, I trust
You will not make me say you must
Eat up your oatmeal"; or "The crust
You'll find, is very nice."

Dear maiden, as each morning
Thy house I saunter by,
It glads me when at the window
Thy winsome face I spy.

My face with a silent question
Thy brown eyes gravely scan:
" Who art thou, and what ails thee,
Thou strange sick-looking man? "

I am a German Poet,
In German land well known;
When the best names are spoken,
They also speak my own.

And what ails me, dear maiden,
Makes many a German groan;
When the worst woes are spoken,
They also speak my own.

" Dear love, dost thou sleep fairly?
Alas, there wakes us early
A pretty bird that flew but now
And perched aloft upon the linden-bough. "
" Full softly I was sleeping,
Child, till I heard thee weeping.
Sweet must have its sorrow still;
But all thou bid'st me, sweetheart, I'll fulfill. "
The lady fell a-moaning:
" Thou'lt ride and leave me lonely.
And when wilt thou come back to me?
Alas, thou takest all my joy with thee! "

(A Song.)

Dear Lela is my joy and crown,
My brightest gem and sunshine, too,
Her sweetness often kills a frown
And plants a pleasure where it grew;
Her voice my soul with rapture fills,
Her sparkling eye my being thrills.

Chorus.

Priceless, darling Lela,
Thou alone my heart can cheer;
O, my precious Lela,
How I love thee, Lela, dear.

Dear kindly Sergeant Krupke,
You gotta understand,
It's just our bringin' up-ke
That gets us out of hand.
Our mothers all are junkies,
Our fathers all are drunks.
Golly Moses, natcherly we're punks!

Gee, Officer Krupke, we're very upset;
We never had the love that ev'ry child oughta get.
We ain't no delinquents, we're misunderstood.
Deep down inside us there is good.
There is good, there is good, there is untapped good,
Like inside, the worst of us is good!

Dear kindly Judge, your Honor,
My parents treat me rough,