I will not enter there, To sully your pure prayer But suffer me to pace Lingering a minute, Like outcast spirits, who wait, WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. THE VOLUNTEER'S WIFE. "An' sure I was tould to come to your Honor, "An' what'll ye tell him? It ought to be aisy "For when he went off it's so sick was the childer "So he left her in danger, and me sorely gratin', To follow the flag with an Irishman's joy ; 66 O, it's often I drame of the big drums a batin', An' say will he send a bit of his money, For the rint an' the docther's bill due in a wake;Well, surely, there's tears on yer eye-lashes, honey! Ah, faith, I've no right with such freedom to spake. "You've overmuch trifling, I'll not give you trouble, "What, Patrick O'Connor! No, no, 't is some other! "Don't tell me! It's not him! O God, am I crazy? "The room is so dark, I'm not seein' yer Honor, M. A. DENNISON. ANNABEL LEE. It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me. I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea; But we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabel Lee,— With a love that the wingéd seraphs of heaven And this was the reason that long ago, The angels not so happy in heaven, Yes! that was the reason (as all men know) But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we, Of many far wiser than we; And neither the angels in heaven above, For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee, And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so all the night-tide I lie down by the side In her tomb by the sounding sea. EDGAR A. POE. 'THE VAGABONDS. We are two travelers, Roger and I. Five years we've tramped through wind and weather, And slept out-doors when nights were cold, And ate and drank-and starved together. We've learned what comfort is, I tell you! The paw he holds up there's been frozen), (This out-door business is bad for strings) Then a few nice buckwheats hot from the griddle, No, thank ye, sir,—I never drink; Roger and I are exceedingly moral,— Aren't we Roger?-see him wink!— Well, something hot, then, we won't quarrel. He's thirsty, too,-see him nod his head? He understands every word that's said,— And he knows good milk from water-and-chalk. |