It was a little naughty page,
Ha! ha!
Would catch a bird was closed in cage.
Sa! sa!
Ha! ha!
Sa! sa!
He seized the cage, the latch did draw,
Ha! ha!
And in he thrust his knavish paw.
Sa! sa!
Ha! ha!
Sa! sa!
The bird dashed out, and gained the thorn,
Ha! ha!
And laughed the silly fool to scorn!
Sa! sa!
Ha! ha!
Sa! sa!

O wherefore should I seek above
Thy City in the sky?
Since firm in faith and deep in love
Its broad foundations lie;

Since in a life of peace and prayer,
Nor known on earth, nor praised,
By humblest toil, by ceaseless care,
Its holy towers are raised.

Where pain the soul hath purified,
And penitence hath shriven,
And truth is crowned and glorified,—
There, only there, is Heaven!

In thee my powers, my treasures live;
To thee my life must tend;
Giving thyself, thou all dost give,
O soul-sufficing Friend!

IN MEMORY OF EDWARD QUILLINAN

I saw him sensitive in frame,
I knew his spirits low;
And wish'd him health, success, and fame —
I do not wish it now.

For these are all their own reward,
And leave no good behind;
They try us, oftenest make us hard,
Less modest, pure, and kind.

Alas! yet to the suffering man,
In this his mortal state,
Friends could not give what fortune can —

To guard my body from the blight of age
I scoured those heights where magic simples thrive
By breath-control, by drafts of powdered jade,
Within my breast a new Me came alive.

I grew immortal, coaxed a team of dragons
To wear my harness so that I might ride
The roll of thunder while, through whirling clouds,
White lightnings flickered from their scaly hide.

I dropped the reins of the charioteer of the sun
And stamped my foot to open heaven's gate
Like some small horse's hoofprint filled with water

In the deserted, moon-blanch'd street,
How lonely rings the echo of my feet!
Those windows, which I gaze at, frown,
Silent and white, unopening down,
Repellent as the world; — but see,
A break between the housetops shows
The moon! and, lost behind her, fading dim
Into the dewy dark obscurity
Down at the far horizon's rim,
Doth a whole tract of heaven disclose!

And to my mind the thought
Is on a sudden brought
Of a past night, and a far different scene.
Headlands stood out into the moonlit deep
As clearly as at noon;

The capital is a cave for wandering knights,
Mountains and forests are hiding-places for hermits
What lustre lies in those vermilion gates?
They cannot compare with a dwelling on Mount Penglai
The hermit drinks from the clear waves of the spring,
Then climbs the hills to gather cinnabar buds.
Hidden from the world, he can stroll by Magic Stream,
So why should he care to climb the Ladder to the Clouds?
A haughty official once lived in Lacquer Garden,
Master Lai's wife was fond of the hermit's life
Advancement will surely let you see the dragon,

O, wilt thou go with me, love,
And seek the lonely glen?
O, wilt thou leave for me, love,
The smiles of other men? —
The birds are there aye singing,
And the woods are full of glee,
And love shall there be flinging
His roses over thee.

O, wilt thou go with me, dear,
And share my humble lot?
O, wilt thou live with me, dear,
Within a lowly cot? —
Though beauty hath enshrouded thee
With all that 's sweet and fair,
The sorrows that have clouded thee
Shall all be wanting there.

O, wilt thou go with me, Anne,

My heart was a mirror, that showed every treasure
Of beauty and loveliness life can display;
It reflected each beautiful blossom of pleasure,
But turned from the dark looks of bigots away;
It was living and moving with loveliest creatures,
In smiles or in tears, as the soft spirit chose;
Now shining with brightest and ruddiest features,
Now pale as the snow of the dwarf mountain-rose.

These visions of sweetness for ever were playing,
Like butterflies fanning the still summer air;
Some sported a moment, some, never decaying,

O, pure is the wind,
As it blows o'er the mountain;
And clear is the wave,
As it flows from the fountain;
And sweet are the flowers
In the green meadow blooming;
And gay are the bowers,
When the soft air perfuming.
O go, dearest, go
To the heath, and the mountain,
Where the blue violets blow
On the brink of the fountain;
Where nothing but death
Our affection can sever,
And till life's latest breath
Love shall bind us for ever.

O, bright is the morn,
When it breaks on the valley;
And shrill is the horn,

Evermore may there riches great encrease
Double to you, who so acts righteousness;
Warding the poore, who want a sure defence;
And well regarding opprest innocence,
Rightly proclaiming you a Noble Peere,
Devoted unto works of mercy here,
Ever hereafter that you may shine cleere.

Run on blest soul, who as a Ward most Free
Advanceth forth, the poores defence to be:
Doing all freely evermore remaine,
Cloud-like retaining to distill the rayne,
Letting it fall upon the thirsty ground,
In watering earth, which Husbandmen do mound