1.

" Get down, get down, loving Henry, " she said,
" And stay all night with me;
But there's another girl in the Urgent land,
That you love better than me. "

2.

" I could get down if I would get down,
And stay all night with you,
But there is a girl in the Urgent land
That I love better than you. "

3.

As he leaned over his saddle skirts,
To kiss her rosy cheeks,

VERSE 1

Gee, but it's tough to be broke, kid,
It's not a joke, kid, it's a curse.
My luck is changing, it's gotten
From simply rotten to something worse.
Who knows, someday I will win, too.
I'll begin to reach my prime;
Now though I see what our end is,
All I can spend is just my time.

REFRAIN

I can't give you anything but love,
Baby,
That's the only thing I've plenty of,
Baby.
Dream a while, scheme a while,
We're sure to find
Happiness, and I guess

From the small life that loves with tooth and nail
To the thorn'd brow that makes the heavens pale.

From the madding crowd they stand apart,
The maidens four and the Work of Art;

And none might tell from sight alone
In which had culture ripest grown, —

The Gotham Millions fair to see,
The Philadelphia Pedigree,

The Boston Mind of azure hue,
Or the Soulful Soul from Kalamazoo, —

For all loved Art in a seemly way,
With an earnest soul and a capital A.
...

Long they worshipped; but no one broke
The sacred stillness, until up spoke

The Western one from the nameless place,

Fortune, Nature, Love, long have contended about me,
Which should most miseries, cast on a worm that I am.
Fortune thus gan say: "Misery and misfortune is all one,
And of misfortune, fortune hath only the gift.
With strong foes on land, on seas with contrary tempests
Still do I cross this wretch, what so he taketh in hand."
"Tush, tush," said Nature, "this is all but a trifle, a man's self
Gives haps or mishaps, ev'n as he ord'reth his heart.
But so his humor I frame, in a mould of choler adjusted,
That the delights of life shall be to him dolorous."

For shame, thou everlasting Woer,
Still saying Grace and ne're fall to her!
Love that's in Contemplation plac't,
Is Venus drawn but to the Wast.
Unlesse your Flame confesse its Gender,
And your Parley cause surrender,
Y'are Salamanders of a cold desire,
That live untouch't amid the hottest fire.

What though she be a Dame of stone,
The Widow of Pigmalion ;
As hard and un-relenting She,
As the new-crusted Niobe ;
Or what doth more of Statue carry
A Nunne of the Platonick Quarrey?
Love melts the rigor which the rocks have bred,

For many unsuccessful years
At Cynthia's feet I lay;
And often bath'd them with my tears,
Despair'd, but durst not pray.

No prostrate wretch, before the shrine
Of any saint above,
E'er thought his goddess more divine,
Or paid more awful love.

Still the disdainful dame look'd down
With an insulting pride;
Receiv'd my passion with a frown,
Or toss'd her head aside.

When Cupid whisper'd in my ear,
"Use more prevailing charms,
Fond, whining, modest fool, draw near,
And clasp her in your arms.

For love he offered me his perfect world.
This world was so constricted, and so small,
It had no sort of loveliness at all,
And I flung back the little silly ball.
At that cold moralist I hotly hurled
His perfect, pure, symmetrical, small world.

Ode

I

Fond Love, deliver up thy Bow,
I am becom more Love than thou;
I am a wanton growne, and wild,
Much lesse a Man, and more a Child,
From Venus borne, of chaster kind,
A better Archer, though as blind.

II

Surrender without more adoe,
I am both King and Subject too,
I will comand, but must obey,
I am the Hunter, and the Prey,
I vanquish, yet am over come,
And sentencing, receive my doom.

III

No springing Beauty scapes my dart,
And ev'ry ripe one wounds my heart;

I
Fluttering spread thy purple pinions,
Gentle Cupid o'er my heart;
I a slave in thy dominions;
Nature must give way to art.
II

Mild Arcadians, ever blooming,
Nightly nodding o'er your flocks,
See my weary days consuming,
All beneath yon flowery rocks.
III

Thus the Cyprian goddess weeping,
Mourned Adonis, darling youth:
Him the boar in silence creeping,
Gored with unrelenting tooth.
IV

Cynthia, tune harmonious numbers;
Fair Discretion string the lyre;
Soothe my ever-waking slumbers: