LITTLE FAN.

165

Why, a touch spoils a butterfly's wing; - not my

plan;

Though I fear that I'm spoiling you, frolicsome

Fan!

ALL IN THE DOWNS.

THOMAS HOOD, JUN.

“Had I a little son, I would christen him 'Nothing-to-do.””

CHARLES LAMB.

WOULD I had something to do—or to think!

Or something to read, or to write !

I am rapidly verging on lunacy's brink,
Or I shall be dead before night.

In my ears has been ringing and droning all day, Without ever a stop or a change,

That poem of Tennyson's-heart-cheering lay!— Of the moated monotonous Grange!

ALL IN THE DOWNS.

167

The stripes in the carpet and paper alike
I have counted, and counted all through,
And now I've a fervid ambition to strike

Out some path of wild pleasure that's new.

They say, if a number you count, and recount,
That the time imperceptibly goes,-

Ah! I wish-how I wish!-I'd ne'er learnt the amount
Of my aggregate fingers and toes.

Enjoyment is fleeting," the proverbs all say,

"Even that which it feeds upon fails."

I've arrived at the truth of the saying to-day,

By devouring the whole of my nails.

I have numbered the minutes so heavy and slow,

Till of that dissipation I tire,

And as for exciting amusements,—you know

One can't always be stirring the fire.

THE BRACELET.

(From Abroad.)

THOMAS HOOD, JUN.

AKE, dearest one, this golden band,

And clasp it round thine arm for me— Who fain would link with mine own hand

This token of my life to thee.

Oh, may thy pulse beneath it beat
One measured rhythm with thy heart,

Beat quick with joy, love, when we meet—
And only slowly when we part.

And may thy moments, free from pain,
And full of joy, pass calmly by—
Links, dearest, of a silver chain,—

Beads, in a golden rosary!

RONDE A U.

LEIGH HUNT.

ENNY kissed me when we met,

Jumping from the chair she sat in ;

Time, you thief, who love to get

Sweets into your list, put that in:

Say I'm weary, say I'm sad,

Say that health and wealth have missed me,

Say I'm growing old, but add,

Jenny kissed me !