Come forth from thy oozy couch,
 O Ornithorhyncus dear!
And greet with a cordial claw
 The stranger that longs to hear

From thy own lips the tale
 Of thy origin all unknown:
Thy misplaced bone where flesh should be
 And flesh where should be bone;

And fishy fin where should be paw,
 And beaver-trowel tail,
And snout of beast equip'd with teeth
 Where gills ought to prevail.

Come, Kangaroo, the good and true!
 Foreshortened as to legs,
And body tapered like a churn,
 And sack marsupial, i' fegs,

Come follow, heart upon your sleeve,
— The trail, a-teasing by,
Past tasseled corn and fresh-mown hay,
— Trim barns and farm-house shy,
Past hollyhocks and white well-sweep,
— Through pastures bare and wild,
Oh come, let's fare to the heart-o'-the-wood
— With the faith of a little child.

Strike in by the gnarled way through the swamp
— Where late the laurel shone,
An intimate close where you meet yourself
— And come unto your own,
By bouldered brook to the hidden spring
— Where breath of ferns blows sweet

A HISTORICAL CENTENNIAL BALLAD

I

Come, fill the beaker, while we chaunt a pean of old days:
By Mars! no men shall live again more worthy of our praise,
Than they who stormed at Louisburg and Frontenac amain,
And shook the English standard out o'er the ruins of Duquesne.

For glorious were the days they came, the soldiers strong and true,
And glorious were the days, they came for Pennsylvania, too;
When marched the troopers sternly on through forest's autumn brown,

1. Come, every soul by sin oppressed, There's mercy with the Lord;
2. For Jesus shed his precious blood Rich blessings to bestow;
And he will surely give you rest, By trusting in his word.
Plunge now into the crimson flood That washes white as snow.
Only trust him, only trust him, Only trust him now;
He will save you, he will save you, He will save you now.

3. Yes, Jesus is the truth, the way,
That leads you into rest;
Believe in him without delay,
And you are fully blest.
Chorus

4. Come then, and join this holy band,

Come , each death-doing dog who dares venture his neck,
Come, follow the hero that goes to Quebec;
Jump aboard of the transports, and loose every sail,
Pay your debts at the tavern by giving leg-bail;
And ye that love fighting shall soon have enough:
Wolfe commands us, my boys; we shall give them Hot Stuff.

Up the River St. Lawrence our troops shall advance,
To the Grenadiers' March we will teach them to dance.
Cape Breton we have taken, and next we will try
At their capital to give them another black eye.

Come down, ye graybeard mariners,
Unto the wasting shore!
The morning winds are up, — the gods
Bid me to dream no more.
Come, tell me whither I must sail,
What peril there may be,
Before I take my life in hand
And venture out to sea!

— We may not tell thee where to sail,
Nor what the dangers are;
Each sailor soundeth for himself,
Each hath a separate star:
Each sailor soundeth for himself,
And on the awful sea
What we have learned is ours alone;
We may not tell it thee. —

Come back, O ghostly mariners,

Come day, go day,
There's sorrow at the end of it.
Turn road, wind road,
There's mystery in the bend of it.
Oh, all the winds of all the worlds
That lose themselves in starry spaces
Can never blow the secret off
That stares at us in common faces.

Life long, life short,
There's love to meet in tears or laughter.
Die soon, die late,
There's Grandsir Death to walk with, after.
And be you great or be you small,
There's no way out but going through it.
Oh, curious fate that makes us live,
But will not teach us how to do it!

Come, dark-eyed Sleep, thou child of Night,
Give me thy dreams, thy lies;
Lead through the horny portal white
The pleasure day denies.

O bring the kiss I could not take
From lips that would not give
Bring me the heart I could not break
The bliss for which I live.

I care not if I slumber blest
By fond delusion; nay,
Put me on Phaon's lips to rest,
And cheat the cruel day!

Come cuddle close in daddy's coat
— Beside the fire so bright,
And hear about the fairy folk
— That wander in the night.
For when the stars are shining clear
— And all the world is still,
They float across the silver moon
— From hill to cloudy hill.

Their caps of red, their cloaks of green,
— Are hung with silver bells,
And when they're shaken with the wind
— Their merry ringing swells.
And riding on the crimson moth,
— With black spots on her wings,
They guide them down the purple sky
— With golden bridle rings.

" Come! " cried Helen, eager Helen.
" Time enough , " said careful Ann.
But oh, the lilac-buds were swelling
And all the birds had started telling —
" Listen! look! " cried eager Helen,
Pointing where the spring began.
" Well, and what of that, " said Ann.
" Something's happening — oh, let's go! "
" When it happens we shall know. "
" Ah, but that's so slow! " cried Helen,
" Come on, come! " cried eager Helen.
" Time enough, " said Ann.
" I must go! " " And I will wait .