The Muse, a shameless mercenary jade!
Has now assum'd the arch-tongued lawyer's trade:
In W OLFE 's deserving praises silent she,
Till flatter'd with the prospect of a fee.

Och by jasus hes a irish lad
& he owns an irish heart
Hell be to none a sneaking cad
But act a princely part
By jasus judy fill the bowl
While whiskeys to be had
For I told you hed an irish soul
& Ill drink the soldier lad
Whoop boy whoo
Spite of every botheration
The prince of waterloo
Has gave emancipation
& has kilt some taxe[s] too
So drink round to the soldier lad
& make no more to do.

Come smoke about your whiskey stills
Round bogs & mountains all
Come judys scour your whisky gills

Gently I stir a white feather fan,
With open shirt sitting in a green wood.
I take off my cap and hang it on a jutting stone;
A wind from the pine-trees trickles on my bare head.

Dear foe, I know thou 'lt win the fight.
I know thou hast the stronger bark,
And thou art sailing in the light,
While I am creeping in the dark.
Thou dost not dream that I am crying,
As I come up with colors flying.

I clear away my wounded, slain,
With strength like frenzy, strong and swift;
I do not feel the tug and strain,
Though dead are heavy, hard to lift.
If I looked in their faces dying,
I could not keep my colors flying.

Dear foe, it will be short,—our fight,—
Though lazily thou train'st thy guns;

Between the two gold
vases of Bermuda lilies
go the egg-shaped

feelings of a man
fearing son and whore,
feeling his heart

peeled from its mesentery,
washing and beating
on a board between the organ

and the bride's gown,
his memory touched
with invitation and ideal.

Hear now this fairy legend of old Greece,
As full of gracious youth and beauty still
As the immortal freshness of that grace
Carved for all ages on some Attic frieze.

A youth named Rhœcus, wandering in the wood,
Saw an old oak just trembling to its fall,
And, feeling pity of so fair a tree,
He propped its gray trunk with admiring care,
And with a thoughtless footstep loitered on.
But, as he turned, he heard a voice behind
That murmured “Rhœcus!” 'T was as if the leaves,
Stirred by a passing breath, had murmured it,

Columbia, trust the Lord, thy foes in vain Attempt thy ruin
and enforce their reign. Had they prevailed, darkness had closed our days,
And death and silence had forbid his praise; But we are
saved and live, let songs arise! Columbia, bless the God who built the skies.

Exhausted,
time to find a lodging—
hanging wisteria.

Out of the dark into the arms of love
The babe is born, and recks not of the way
His soul has traversed to confront the day:
Enough for him the face that smiles above,
The tireless feet that on his errands move,
The arms that clasp, the tender lips that kiss,
The whole dear wealth of welcome and of bliss
His heirship and his sovereignty that prove.

So may there be no place for Earth's vain tears
When Heaven's great rapture bursts upon the sight:—
Shall not the soul, new-born in heavenly spheres,
Forget the paths it traversed, and the night

T RANSPARENT appears the radiant air,
Though steel and stone in its breast it may bear;
At length they'll meet with fiery power,
And metal and stones on the earth will shower.