The bright cup which angels might handle
Turns earthy when finger'd by asses--
And the star that "swaps" light with a candle,
Thenceforth for a pennyworth passes!--
Not the thing!




YOU KNOW IF IT WAS YOU
N. P. WILLIS.

As the chill'd robin, bound to Florida
Upon a morn of autumn, crosses flying
The air-track of a snipe most passing fair--
Yet colder in her blood than she is fair--
And as that robin lingers on the wing,
And feels the snipe's flight in the eddying air,
And loves her for her coldness not the less--
But fain would win her to that warmer sky
Where love lies waking with the fragrant stars--
Lo I--a languisher for sunnier climes,
Where fruit, leaf, blossom, on the trees forever
Image the tropic deathlessness of love--
Have met, and long'd to win thee, fairest lady,
To a more genial clime than cold Broadway!

Tranquil and effortless thou glidest on,
As doth the swan upon the yielding water,
And with a cheek like alabaster cold!