For I have not tried to find her
Since you sent your love by me;
Day by day I think I'm blinder,--
Fruitless search, as you might see.
I wonder, if in sending,
If you choose your slave by chance,
What that twinkle was portending
In your glance?
Tell me, when I bear the treasure,
Would you very angry be
Should I keep a trifling measure
That was hardly meant for me?
For it's common in commissions
Some percentage of the whole
To extract from you patricians.
Just for toll.
JOHN BARKER.
_Williams Literary Monthly._
~Chansonette.~
Dimpled cheeks and scarlet lips,
Pink and dainty finger-tips,
Glowing blushes, fragrant sighs,
Looks dove-sweet from starry eyes,
These do show this saying true--
Maidens all were meant to woo!
Guerdon dear shall be his meed
Who will be Love's thrall in deed:
Strollings 'neath a mellow moon,
Whispers soft as rain in June,
Kisses, maybe, one or two--
Maidens all were meant to woo!
WILL L. GRAVES.
_Makio_.
~Triolet.~
He kissed me 'neath the mistletoe!
Of course I said it wasn't fair
To take advantage of me so,
And kiss me 'neath the mistletoe,--
But then, 'twas only Jack, you know,
And so I really didn't care!
He kissed me 'neath the mistletoe,
Although I said ft wasn't fair!
GERTRUDE CRAVEN.
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