Sweet Child of Sensibility!
Haste thee from mirth and noise and folly,
And o'er sad scenes of melancholy,
Come, and muse, and mourn with me.

The early spring say hast thou seen,
All nature smiling at her birth,
Bestrew the moisten'd lap of earth
With fairest flowers and herbage green:

And o'er the branches late so bare,
The swelling buds profusely spread,
And clust'ring blossoms gaily shed,
Fair promise of a fruitful year—

Then from the dark o'er-loaded skies
Hast seen the heavy showers descend,

The ark of God has hidden strength;
Who reverence or profane,
They, or their seed, shall find at length
The penalty or gain.

While as a sojourner it sought
Of old its destined place,
A blessing on the home it brought
Of one who did it grace.

But there was one, outstripping all
The holy-vestured band,
Who laid on it, to save its fall,
A rude corrective hand.

Read, who the Church would cleanse, and mark
How stern the warning runs;
There are two ways to aid her ark—
As patrons, and as sons.

That Night, its sleepless hours I'll ne'er forget;
On Heliodora all my thoughts are set.
My eyes still feel the smart of those glad tears
When each gray morn with slanting beams appears.
Ah, does she too, I wonder, think of me
And cherish yet our love's dear memory,
To my cold picture give her kisses warm,
And as she sleeps with tears bedew her arm,
In dreams upon her breast me close embrace
Deluded by the phantom of my face?
Or can it be that with new fire she burns,
To some new love her fancy lightly turns?

A GOOD book is a friend; the best of friends,
That cannot be estranged or take offence
Howe'er neglected, but returns at will
With the old friendship.

I dance to forget life,
For I have had enough of love and roses,
And I would feel the blood riot in my veins
Warm as a Summer wind!

Bring the music!
Let us dance till our dreams lie dead,
And the haggard dawn shivers
On the shining floor!

Let there be wild song
And false mirth to fill the heavy air;
As careless boys in carnival
Let us be glad!

Let me be full of rhythm
Until I am drunk unto forgetting!
Unfurl the pageant of color
That I may drown therein.

I dance to forget life,
For I have had enough of love and roses,

Thoughtful little Willie Frazer
Carved his name with father's razor;
Father, unaware of trouble,
Used the blade to shave his stubble.
Father cut himself severely,
Which pleased little Willie dearly—
“I have fixed my father's razor
So it cuts!” said Willie Frazer

Mamie often wondered why
Acids trouble alkali—
Mamie, in a manner placid,
Fed the cat boracic acid,
Whereupon the cat grew frantic,
Executing many an antic,
“Ah!” cried Mamie, overjoyed,
“Pussy is an alkaloid!”

Arthur with a lighted taper

Fair partner of my Nancy's heart,
Who feel'st, like me, love's poignant dart;
Who at a frown can'st pant for pain,
And at a smile revive again;
Who doat'st to that severe degree,
You're jealous, e'en of constancy;
Born hopes and fears and doubts to prove,
And each vicissitude of love!
To this my humble suit attend,
And be my advocate and friend.
So may just heav'n your goodness bless,
Successful ev'n in my success!
Oft at the silent hour of night,
When bold intrusion wings her flight,
My fair, from care and bus'ness free,

O HAPPINESS ! where art thou to be found?
What bow'r is blest with thy perpetual gleam?
From court, from cot, ev'n while they seek thy stay,
On thy soft pinions, rapid is thy slight.
Thy name, not substance, is to mortals known.

Repulse from thee makes drunkards stand aghast,
Who nightly revel o'er the flowing bowl.
In vain they seek thy progress to retard,
A guest too noble to be thus detain'd.
Thy quick elopement shews their sad mistake;
Baulks hope, and certain disappointment brings.

Misers for thee grope 'midst their bags of wealth,

When to my house you come, dear Dean,
Your humble friend to entertain,
Through dirt and mire along the street,
You find no scraper for you feet:
At this, you storm and stamp and swell,
Which serves to clean your feet as well:
By steps ascending to the hall,
All torn to rags, with boys and ball.
Fragments of lime about the floor,
A sad, uneasy parlor door,
Besmeared with chalk, and nicked with knives
(A pox upon all careless wives!)
Are the next sights you must expect;
But do not think they're my neglect.
Ah, that these evils were the worst!

What's got by Justice is establisht sure;
No Kingdomes got by Rapine long endure.