She sent him a letter to thank him,
On paper just tinted with blue--
"The flowers are still very fresh, John,
When I see them I think of you."
She posted her letter that morning,
He got it that evening at ten.
She can't understand what has changed him,
For he called on her never again.
F.S.
_Columbia Spectator_.
~Lines to a Monkey.~
(_After reading Darwin_.)
It seems quite funny to reflect,
And yet what else could we expect
(If Darwin's true),
That my primeval grandmamma
And prehistoric grandpapa
Looked just like you.
How any one could ever see
Relationship 'twixt you and me
I can't explain.
You're such an awkward little beast,
Your features are (to say the least)
So very plain.
And since the rule's considered poor
That doesn't work both ways, I'm sure
As I can be,
That ages hence, if earth endures,
Some distant relative of yours
Will look like me.
HENRY RUTGERS CONGER.
_Williams Literary Monthly_.
~Hymns Ancient And Modern.~
ANCIENT.
Complexion like the winter snow,
Just tinted by the sunset glow,
Throat white as alabaster,
Teeth of pearl, and hair of gold,
And figure--sure in Venus's mould
Th' immortal gods have east her.
And I am proud her slave to be,
And deem it high felicity
To die, if she should will it so.
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