AD AMANTEM SUAM

Careless rhymer, it is true, That my favourite colour's blue: But am I To be made a victim, sir, If to puddings I prefer Cambridge [pi]?

If with giddier girls I play Croquet through the summer day On the turf, Then at night ('tis no great boon) Let me study how the moon Sways the surf.

Tennyson's idyllic verse Surely suits me none the worse If I seek Old Sicilian birds and bees-- Music of sweet Sophocles-- Golden Greek.

You have said my eyes are blue; There may be a fairer hue, Perhaps--and yet It is surely not a sin If I keep my secrets in Violet.

_Mortimer Collins._

THE FAIR MILLINGER

By the Watertown Horse-Car Conductor

It was a millinger most gay, As sat within her shop; A student came along that way, And in he straight did pop.

Clean shaven he, of ma.s.sive mould, He thought his looks was killing her; So lots of stuff to him she sold: "Thanks!" says the millinger.

He loafed around and seemed to try On all things to converse; The millinger did mind her eye, But also mound his purse.

He tried, then, with his flattering tongue, With nonsense to be filling her; But she was sharp, though she was young: "Thanks," said the millinger.

He asked her to the theatre, They got into my car; Our steeds were tired, could hardly stir, He thought the way not far.

A pretty pict-i-ure she made, No doctors had been pilling her; Fairly the fair one's fare he paid: "Thanks!" said the millinger.

When we arrived in Bowdoin Square, A female to them ran; Then says that millinger so fair: "O, thank you, Mary Ann!

She's going with us, she is," says she, "She only is fulfilling her Duty in looking after me: Thanks!" said that millinger.

"Why," says that student chap to her, "I've but two seats to hand."

"Too bad," replied that millinger, "Then you will have to stand."

"I won't stand this," says he, "I own The joke which you've been drilling her; Here, take the seats and go alone!"

"Thanks!" says the millinger.

That ere much-taken-down young man Stepped back into my car.

We got fresh horses, off they ran; He thought the distance far.

And now she is my better half, And oft, when coo-and-billing her, I think about that chap and laugh: "Thanks!" says my millinger.

_Fred W. Loring._

TWO FISHERS

One morning when Spring was in her teens-- A morn to a poet's wishing, All tinted in delicate pinks and greens-- Miss Bessie and I went fishing.

I in my rough and easy clothes, With my face at the sun-tan's mercy; She with her hat tipped down to her nose, And her nose tipped--_vice versa_.

I with my rod, my reel, and my hooks, And a hamper for lunching recesses; She with the bait of her comely looks, And the seine of her golden tresses.

So we sat us down on the sunny dike, Where the white pond-lilies teeter, And I went to fishing like quaint old Ike, And she like Simon Peter.

All the noon I lay in the light of her eyes, And dreamily watched and waited, But the fish were cunning and would not rise, And the baiter alone was baited.

And when the time of departure came, My bag hung flat as a flounder; But Bessie had neatly hooked her game-- A hundred-and-fifty-pounder.

_Unknown._

MAUD

Nay, I cannot come into the garden just now, Tho' it vexes me much to refuse: But I _must_ have the next set of waltzes, I vow, With Lieutenant de Boots of the Blues.

I am sure you'll be heartily pleas'd when you hear That our ball has been quite a success.

As for _me_--I've been looking a monster, my dear.

In that old-fashion'd guy of a dress.

You had better at once hurry home, dear, to bed; It is getting so dreadfully late.

You may catch the bronchitis or cold in the head If you linger so long at our gate.

Don't be obstinate, Alfy; come, take my advice-- For I know you're in want of repose: Take a basin of gruel (you'll find it so nice), And remember to tallow your nose.

No, I tell you I can't and I shan't get away, For De Boots has implor'd me to sing.

As to _you_--if you like it, of course you can stay, You were always an obstinate thing.

If you feel it a pleasure to talk to the flow'rs About "babble and revel and wine,"

When you might have been snoring for two or three hours, Why, it's not the least business of mine.

_Henry S. Leigh._

ARE WOMEN FAIR?

"Are women fair?" Ay, wondrous fair to see, too.

"Are women sweet?" Yea, pa.s.sing sweet they be, too.

Most fair and sweet to them that only love them; Chaste and discreet to all save them that prove them.