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THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY. 1797-1839.
I'd be a butterfly born in a bower,
I'd be a Butterfly.
Her name is never heard ;
Oh no! we never mention her.
Welcome me Home.
Why don't the Men propose !
The night that first we met. She wore a Wreath. Friends depart, and memory takes them
To her caverns, pure and deep. Teach me to forget. Tell me the tales that to me were so dear,
Long, long ago, long, long ago. Long, long ago.
Is not the rose for me. The Rose that all are praising.
bid, Absence makes the heart grow fonder: 1
Isle of Beauty, fare thee well! Isle of Beauty.
1 I find that absence still increases love. - CHARLES HOPKINS : To C. C.
Distance sometimes endears friendship, and absence sweeteneth it. HOWELL: Familiar Letters, book i. sect. i. No. 6.
BAYLY. - DRUMMOND. - CLARKE. - LOVER.
The mistletoe hung in the castle hall,
The Mistletoe Bough.
And many friends I've met;
Oh, steer my Bark to Erin's Isle.
THOMAS DRUMMOND.: 1797-1840.
Property has its duties as well as its rights.?
Letter to the Landlords of Tipperary.
MCDONALD CLARKE. 1798-1842.
Whilst twilight's curtain spreading far,
Death in Disguise. Line 227. (Boston edition, 1833.)
SAMUEL LOVER. 1797-1868.
A baby was sleeping,
The Angel's W’hisper. Reproof on her lips, but a smile in her eye. Rory O' More. For drames always go by conthraries, my dear." Ibid.
1 Captain Drummond was the inventor of the Drummond light.
Now twilight lets her curtain down,
And pins it with a star. 4 See Scott, page 482.
5 See Middleton, page 172.
* Then here goes another," says he, “ to make sure, For there's luck in odd numbers,” says Rory O'More.
Rory 0 More, There was a place in childhood that I remember well, And there a voice of sweetest tone bright fairy tales did tell.
My Mother dear.
THOMAS HOOD. 1798-1845.
There is a silence where hath been no sound,
Her breathing soft and low,
Our fears our hopes belied ;
I remember, I remember.
1 See Shakespeare, page 46.
She stood breast-high amid the corn
Wither'd and shaken,
Spring it is cheery.
Ode to Melancholy.
The Lady's Dream
And all round the square. A Plain Direction.
In imperceptible water. Miss Kilmansegg. Her Christening.
1 See Burton, page 185.
Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!
fler Moral. Spurn'd by the young, but hugg'd by the old To the very verge of the churchyard mould.
Ibid. How widely its agencies vary, — To save, to ruin, to curse, to bless, As even its minted coins express, Now stamp'd with the image of Good Queen Bess, And now of a Bloody Mary.
Ibid. Another tumble! That's his precious nose!
Parental Ode to my Infant Son.
By the gusty thieves,
With eyelids heavy and red,
The Song of the Shirt.
O men with mothers and wives,
1 See Scott, page 493.