And there should be her grave; The lightning and the gale! - Oliver Wendell Holmes JIM BLUDSO, OF THE PRAIRIE BELLE Wall, no! I can't tell whar he lives, Of livin' like you and me. Whar have you been for the last three year That you haven't heard folks tell He weren't no saint, them engineers And this was all the religion he had, To treat his engine well; Never be passed on the river; To mind the pilot's bell; And if ever the Prairie Belle took fire, - He'd hold her nozzle agin the bank All boats has their day on the Mississip, The Movastar was a better boat, But the Belle she wouldn't be passed. And so she come tearin' along that night The oldest craft on the line With a nigger squat on her safety-valve, And quick as a flash she turned, and made For that willer-bank on the right. There was runnin' and cursin', but Jim yelled out, Over all the infernal roar, "I'll hold her nozzle agin the bank Till the last galoot's ashore." Through the hot, black breath of the burnin' boat And they all had trust in his cussedness, In the smoke of the Prairie Belle. He weren't no saint, - but at jedgment 'Longside of some pious gentlemen And Christ ain't a going to be too hard - John Hay KITTY OF COLERAINE As beautiful Kitty one morning was tripping, "Oh! what shall I do now - 't was looking at you, now; Sure, sure, such a pitcher I'll ne'er meet again! 'T was the pride of my dairy! Oh! Barney MacCleary, You're sent as a plague to the girls of Coleraine." I sat down beside her, and gently did chide her, 'T was hay-making season — -Charles Dawson Shanly RONDEAU Jenny kiss'd me when we met, Sweets into your list put that in! Say that health and wealth have missed me, ON A FAVORITE CAT, DROWNED IN A TUB OF GOLD FISHES 'T was on a lofty vase's side, The azure flowers that blow, Her conscious tail her joy declared: Her coat, that with the tortoise vies, Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes Still had she gazed, but 'midst the tide Their scaly armor's Tyrian hue Through richest purple, to the view The hapless Nymph with wonder saw: She stretch'd, in vain, to reach the prize- Presumptuous maid! with looks intent Eight times emerging from the flood No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirr'd, From hence, ye Beauties! undeceived, And be with caution bold: Not all that tempts your wandering eyes Thomas Gray |