I mean to take the knocker off,
Put crape upon the door,
Or hint to John that I am gone
To stay a month or more.
I do not tremble when I meet

The stoutest of my foes,

But Heaven defend me from the friend
Who never, never goes!

Early Rising

"GOD bless the man who first invented sleep!"
So Sancho Panza said, and so say I:
And bless him, also, that he didn't keep
His great discovery to himself; nor try

To make it as the lucky fellow might

Yes-bless the man who first invented sleep (I really can't avoid the iteration);

But blast the man, with curses loud and deep,

Whate'er the rascal's name, or age, or station, Who first invented, and went round advising, That artificial cut-off-Early Rising!

"Rise with the lark, and with the lark to bed,"
Observes some solemn, sentimental owl;
Maxims like these are very cheaply said;
But, ere you make yourself a fool or fowl,
Pray just inquire about his rise and fall,
And whether larks have any beds at all!

The time for honest folks to be abed
Is in the morning, if I reason right;
And he who cannot keep his precious head
Upon his pillow till it's fairly light,
And so enjoy his forty morning winks,
Is up to knavery; or else-he drinks!

Thomson, who sung about the "Seasons," said
It was a glorious thing to rise in season;
But then he said it-lying-in his bed,

At ten o'clock A. M.-the very reason
He wrote so charmingly. The simple fact is
His preaching wasn't sanctioned by his practice.
'Tis, doubtless, well to be sometimes awake-
Awake to duty, and awake to truth-

But when, alas! a nice review we take

Of our best deeds and days, we find, in sooth, The hours that leave the slightest cause to weep Are those we passed in childhood or asleep!

'Tis beautiful to leave the world awhile

For the soft visions of the gentle night;
And free, at last, from mortal care or guile,
To live as only in the angels' sight,
In sleep's sweet realm so cozily shut in,
Where, at the worst, we only dream of sin!

So let us sleep, and give the Maker praise.
I like the lad who, when his father thought
To clip his morning nap by hackneyed phrase

Of vagrant worm by early songster caught, Cried, "Served him right!-it's not at all surprising; The worm was punished, sir, for early rising!"

Ego et Echo

A Fantasy

I

I ASKED of Echo, t'other day

(Whose words are few and often funny), What to a novice she could say

Of courtship, love, and matrimony? Quoth Echo, plainly: "Matter-o'-money!"

II

Whom should I marry? should it be

A dashing damsel, gay and pert,

A pattern of inconsistency;

Or selfish, mercenary flirt?

Quoth Echo, sharply: "Nary flirt!"

III

What if, a-weary of the strife

That long has lured the dear deceiver,

She promised to amend her life,

And sin no more, can I believe her?
Quoth Echo, very promptly: "Leave her!"

IV

But if some maiden with a heart,

On me should venture to bestow it:

Pray, should I act the wiser part

To take the treasure, or forego it?
Quoth Echo, with decision: "Go it!"

V

Suppose a billet-doux (in rhyme),

As warm as if Catullus penned it,
Declare her beauty so sublime

That Cytherea's can't transcend it-
Quoth Echo, very clearly: "Send it!"

VI

But what if, seemingly afraid

To bind her fate in Hymen's fetter,
She vow she means to die a maid-
In answer to my loving letter?
Quoth Echo, rather coolly: "Let her!"

VII

What if, in spite of her disdain,

I find my heart entwined about
With Cupid's dear delicious chain,
So closely that I can't get out?
Quoth Echo, laughingly: "Get out!"

VIII

But if some maid with beauty blest,

As

pure and fair as Heaven can make her,

Will share my labor and my rest,

Till envious Death shall overtake her?
Quoth Echo (sotto voce): "Take her!"

--"Poetical Works."

The Little Maid ana the Lawyer

A Song

I

THEY say, little maid, quoth Lawyer Brown,
I'm the cleverest man in all the town.

Heigh-ho! says she,

What's that to me?

But they say, little maid, quoth Lawyer Brown,
You're the prettiest girl in all the town.
Says she, If they do,

What's that to you?

II

They say, little maid, quoth Lawyer Brown,
I'm the richest man in all the town.

Heigh-ho! says she,

What's that to me?

But they say, little maid, quoth Lawyer Brown,
You ought to be dressed in a finer gown.
Says she, If they do,

What's that to you?

III

They say, little maid, quoth Lawyer Brown,
That Johnny Hodge is an awkward clown.