Dainty fine bird, that art encagid there,
Alas, how like thine and my fortunes are.
Both prisoners be, and both singing thus
Strive to please her, that hath imprisoned us.
Only thus we differ, thou and I,
Thou liv'st singing, but I sing and die.

Dainty Miss Apathy
Sat on a sofa,
Dangling her legs,
And with nothing to do;
She looked at a drawing of
Old Queen Victoria,
At a rug from far Persia —
An exquisite blue;
At a bowl of bright tulips;
A needlework picture
Of doves caged in wicker
You could almost hear coo;
She looked at the switch
That evokes e-
Lectricity;
At the coals of an age
BC millions and two —
When the trees were like ferns
And the reptiles all flew;
She looked at the cat
Asleep on the hearthrug,
At the sky at the window, —

Daily walked the fair and lovely
Sultan's daughter in the twilight, —
In the twilight by the fountain,
Where the sparkling waters plash.

Daily stood the young slave silent
In the twilight by the fountain,
Where the plashing waters sparkle,
Pale and paler every day.

Once by twilight came the princess
Up to him with rapid questions:
" I would know thy name, thy nation,
Whence thou comest, who thou art. "

And the young slave said, " My name is
Mahomet, I come from Yemmen.
I am of the sons of Azra,

Daffadowndilly
Has come up to town,
In a yellow petticoat
And a green gown.

The Dachshund leads a quiet life
Not far above the ground;
He takes an elongated wife,
They travel all around.

They leave the lighted metropole;
Nor turn to look behind
Upon the headlands of the soul,
The tundras of the mind.

They climb together through the dusk
To ask the Lost-and-Found
For information on the stars
Not far above the ground.

The Dachshunds seem to journey on:
And following them, I
Take up my monocle, the Moon,
And gaze into the sky.

Pursuing them with comic art

She kissd his mouth and she combd his hair,
As she had done before, O,
She belted him in his noble broun,
Before he went to Yarrow.

O he 's gone up yon high, [high] hill —
I wat it was with sorrow —
In a den he spied nine weal armd men,
On the bonny banks of Yarrow.

" I see that you are nine for one,
Which are of an unequal marrow;
As lang 's I 'm able to wield my bran,
I 'll fight and be your marrow."

O he has killed them a' but one,
Which bred to him great sorrow;
For up and rose that stubborn lord,

The cynics say that every rose
Is guarded by a thorn that grows
To spoil our posies:
But I no pleasure therefore lack;
I keep my hands behind my back
When smelling roses.

'Tis proved that Sodom's appletarts
Have ashes as component parts
For those that steal them:
My soul no disillusion seeks;
I love my apples' rosy cheeks,
But never peel them.

Though outwardly a gloomy shroud,
The inner half of every cloud
Is bright and shining:
I therefore turn my clouds about

The cygnet crested on the purple water;
The fawn at play beside its graceful dam;
On cowslip bank, in spring, the artless lamb;
The hawthorn robed in white, May's fragrant daughter;
The willow weeping o'er the silent stream;
The rich laburnum with its golden show;
The fairy vision of a poet's dream;
On summer eve earth's many-coloured bow;
Diana aTher bath; Aurora bright;
The dove that sits and singeth o'er her woes;
The star of eve; the lily, child of light;
Fair Venus' self, as from the sea she rose!

Cushy cow, bonny, let down thy milk,
And I will give thee a gown of silk,
A gown of silk and a silver tee
If thou wilt let down thy milk to me.

(Song)

I

The curtains now are drawn,
And the spindrift strikes the glass,
Blown up the jagged pass
By the surly salt sou'-west,
And the sneering glare is gone
Behind the yonder crest,