e wine;

eyes of mine,

April rain

my tears fall

e dawn

you all

and gone.

Woodworth Reese [1856

I DILEXIT"

His feet; the weight
rt; for all the blame,
the worldly shame,
t, and out of date:
-the leprous state;
y the heat of love,

n are blown to prove
ore adulterate.

nd with her untressed hair

she was so blessed to touch; he soiling of despair

bul, because she loved so much. of doubts and fears:

e thing of love and tears.

Hartley Coleridge [1796-1849]

THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS

ONE more Unfortunate,
Weary of breath,
Rashly importunate,
Gone to her death!

Take her up tenderly,
Lift her with care;
Fashioned so slenderly,
Young, and so fair!

Look at her garments
Clinging like cerements:
Whilst the wave constantly

Drips from her clothing;
Take her up instantly,
Loving, not loathing.

Touch her not scornfully;
Think of her mournfully,
Gently and humanly;
Not of the stains of her;
All that remains of her

Now is pure womanly.

Make no deep scrutiny
Into her mutiny

Rash and undutiful;

Past all dishonor,

Death has left on her

Only the beautiful.

Still, for all slips of hers,

One of Eve's familyWipe those poor lips of hers

Oozing so clammily.

Loop up her tresses

Escaped from the comb,

Her fair auburn tresses;
Whilst wonderment guesses

Where was her home?

In she plunged boldly-
No matter how coldly

The rough river ran-
Over the brink of it,
Picture it, think of it,

Dissolute Man!

Lave in it,—drink of it,
Then, if you can!

Take her up tenderly,
Lift her with care;
Fashioned so slenderly,
Young, and so fair!

Ere her limbs frigidly
Stiffen too rigidly,

Decently, kindly,

Smooth and compose them;

And her eyes, close them,

Staring so blindly!

Dreadfully staring

Through muddy impurity, As when with the daring Last look of despairing,

Fixed on futurity.

Perishing gloomily,
Spurred by contumely,
Cold inhumanity,

Burning insanity,

Into her rest.

Cross her hands humbly
As if praying dumbly,

Over her breast!

Owning her weakness,

Her evil behavior,

And leaving, with meekness,

Her sins to her Saviour!

Thomas Hood (1799-1845)

in begins to swim!
-work

s are heavy and dim!

sset, and band,

gusset, and seam,buttons I fall asleep, hem on in a dream!

h sisters dear!

th mothers and wives! en you're wearing out, an creatures' lives!

stitch-stitch,

ty, hunger and dirt,

bnce, with a double thread, 1 as well as a shirt!

do I talk of death,— antom of grisly bone? ear his terrible shape, so like my own,—