Bethink you, Mr., where you are,
And do not rant it so.

Hither on equal terms all come,
Here's neither rich nor poor,
My muck's my own, and be assur'd,
That your's can be no more.

* * * * *


SONG.


Oh, yes! I always dream of her,
But never breathe her name;
Her spirit always dwells with me,
By night, by day the same!
The cheerful smile no more is mine;
I sorrow and regret;
I strive in vain to banish love,
But still I can't forget.

My friends may try to rally me,
And chase my grief away;
I smile in sadness while they laugh,
But heed not what they say.
They must not know how deep I love,
Nor win my secret yet;
And when I smile amid the scene,