KKMT: Mystery at Mount Tamborine (GUM TREE GANG Book 2)
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Praed TbeBelleoftheBaU. To Song Birda on a ftaiday ". The First Sensible Yalentine.
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L Scene on the Austrian Frontier The Poet expresses his feelings respeot- mni a Portrait in Dollars Parlor The Poet expatiates oq the Beaaty of De- lia's Hair 3. Tale of Drory Lane Bfraee Smith. A Parental Ode to my Son.. On a Tear which Angelina obaerred trickling down my nose it Dinner-time. Hw Song of Hiawatha ".
Taiqnin and the Angar Bbknm Erening, by a Tailor ". Fhnthon Scae. The CoontesB of Manchester. Hioaea Biglow, eto. How vouchsafe this day or it be night, That I of you the blissfol sowne may here. Out of this towne helpe me by your might, Sith that you will not be my treasure, For I am slave as nere as any frere, But I pray unto your curtesie, Be heavy again, or els mote I die.
Eoonomy in love is peace to nature. Much like eoonomy in worldly matter ; We should be prudent, neyur liye too fiist; Profusion will not, can not, always last. Dearly thou pay'st for buzzing round the bowl ; Lost to the world, thou busy sweet-lipped soul — Thus Death, as well as Pleasure, dwells with Punch.
Insisting on their own sole will so wild. Gkbdsbud 1 my buiaong fiiend, thou art not dead ; The Fates, so kind, have not yet snapped thy thread; By heayens, thou mov'st a leg, and now its brother, And kicking, lo, again, thou mov'st another I And now thy little drunken eyes unclose. Or wind, or calm, or foul, or fair.
Thou bear'st the gree. I do not like to see thy nose Tum'd up in scornful curve at yonder pig, It would be well, my friend, if we, like him. Were perfect in our kind I. And why despise The sow-bom grunter? He is obstinate, Thou answerest; ugly, and the filthiest beast That banquets upon offiiL. Now I pray yon Hear the pig's counsel Is he obstinate? VT Keoeiye base money at the cun-ent worth.
He hath not learned That pigs were made for man,. Woe to the young posterity of Pork 1 Their enemy is at hand. Jacob, look at him I Those eyes have taught the loyer flattery. Fancy it dressed, and with saltpeter rouged.
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Behold his tail, my friend ; with curls like that The wanton hop marries her stately spouse : So crisp in beauty Amoretta's hair Bings round her lover's soul the chains of love. And what is beauty, but the aptitude Of parts harmonious? Jacob, thou canst but make a monster of him t All alteration man could think, would mar Ss pig-perfection. The last charge,. To thiiye by diiiy ways. But let me rest On better ground the unanswerable defeoMi The pig is a philosopher, who knows No prejudice. Jacob, what is dirt? If matter,.
If matter be not, but as sages say, Spirit is all, and all things visible Are one, the infinitely modified, Think, Jacob, what tiiat pig is, and the mire Wherein he stands knee-deep I And there I the breew Pleads with me, and has won thee to a smile That speaks oonviction. Why, but for thee the uses of the nose Were half 'mknown, and its capacity Of joy. The summer gale that from the heath, At midnoon glowing with the golden gorse, Bears its balsamic odor, but provokes Not satisfies the sense ; and all the flowers. But thine are common comfortBl. And part on the magistral table lights, Part on the open book, soon blown away.
Full surely soon shall then the brow severe Belax ; and from vituperative lips Words that of birch remind not, sounds of praise. And jokes that must be laughed at shall proceed. ILlt the Babylonish curse Straight confound my stanmiering veise. Or a fit expression find. Or a language to my mind, Still the phrase is VTide or scant To take leave of thee, great flaitt!
Or in any terms relate Half my love, or half my hate : For I hate, yet love thee, so. That, whichever thing I show. The plain truth will seem to be A constrained hyperbole. And the passion to proceed If ore from a mistress than a weed.
Bacchus we know, and we allow His tipsy rites. But what art then That but by reflex canst show What his deity can do, As the false Egyptian spell Aped the true Hebrew mirade? Some few vapors thou may'st raise, The weak brain may serve to But to the reins and nobler heart Canst nor life nor heat impart Brother of Baochua, later bofn.
The old world was sure forloni Wanting thee, that aidest more The god's victories than belbre An his panthers, and the brawb Of his piping Bacchanals. For I must nor let it grieve thee, Friendliest of plants, that I must leave For thy sake, tobacco, I Would do any thing but die, And but seek to extend my days Long enough to sing thy praise. If when the wint'ry tempest roar'd. Bat since he crossed the rapid tide,. Here 's a rascal Oome to task all. Ere we reach the lisbon Packet Now we 've reached her, lo 1 the Gkdlant Slid, commands the crew; Passengers their berths are clapped in, Some to grumble, some to spew.
But, since life at most a jest is, As philosophers allow, Still to laugh by far the best is, Then laugh on — as I do now. Sick or wen, at sea or shore; While we 're quaffing.
In a minute, their doubts and their quarreli Oh I show but that mole on your neck, And 'twill soon put an end to their morals. A child who with a magnet play'd, And knew its winning ways so wily, The magnet near the needle laid. While ohl her every tear and look Were such as angels look and shed, When man is by the world misled 1 Gently I whieper'd, " Fahht, dearl Not half thy lover's gifts are here : Say, where are all the seals he gave To eveiy ringlet's jetty wave.
His arms around that neck hath twisted, Twining warmer far than this did 1 Where are they all, so sweet, so many? Oome, listen, maids, etc. That, though she charm'd into them New game each hour, the youngest Lore able to break through them. HfDMIf To make this condiment, your poet begs The pounded yellow of two hard-boiled eggs ; Two boiled potatoes, passed through kitchen-sieve, Smoothness and softness to the salad give ; Let onion atoms lurk within the bowl.
And, half-suspected, animate the whole. Oh, green and glorious I Oh, herbaceous treat I T would tempt the dying anchorite to eat; Back to the world he 'd turn his fleeting soul, And plunge his fingers in the salad bowl I Serenely fiill, the epicure would say. P Who 's doing quite as well as may be, Presented me at half past three Precisely, with another baby.
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And sadly shock'd my first would be. We think in the year eighteen hundred and ten. Its once fair proportions, time, too, has been robbing; A D? There 's no such season. Thid Spring! I shrink and shudder at her name!
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Stiff as a table's? What wonder if in May itself I lack A peg for laudatory verse to hang on? How many maids to see the boys Have nothing in their heads 1 And Mis. Who struts the Randall of the walk? Who models tiny heads in chalk 7 Who scoops the light canoe? What early genius buds apace? Where 'sPoynter? QhaMt Hal Baylis? Alack 1 they're gone — a thousand ways!
Dost think thy sire More happy than his son? That numhood's mirth? And some before the Speaker; And some compose a tragedy, And some compose a rondo; And some draw sword for liberty.