A LOVE LESSON.

Say I'm weary, say I'm sad,

Say that health and wealth have missed me,

Say I'm growing old, but add,

Jenny kissed me!

LEIGH HUNT.

A LOVE LESSON.

A

SWEET "No, no," with a sweet smile

beneath,

Becomes an honest girl; I'd have you learn it :As for plain "Yes," it may be said i' faith, Too plainly and too oft :-pray, well discern it—

Not that I'd have my pleasure incomplete,

Or lose the kiss for which my lips beset you ; But that in suffering me to take it, Sweet, I'd have you say, "No, no, I will not let you." LEIGH HUNT.

Of the children of light,

Who are wise in their generation.

The rich man has a kitchen,

And cooks to dress his dinner;

The poor who would roast

To the baker's must post,

And thus becomes a sinner.

RICH ANd poor.

'The rich man has a cellar,

And a ready butler by him;

The poor must steer

For his pint of beer,

Where the Saint can't choose but spy him.

The rich man's painted windows

Hide the concerts of the quality;
The poor can but share

A crack'd fiddle in the air,

Which offends all sound morality.

The rich man is invisible

In the crowd of his gay society;

But the poor man's delight'

Is a sore in the sight,

And a stench in the nose of piety.

THOMAS L. PEACOCK.

LOVE AND AGE.

I

PLAY'D with you 'mid cowslips blowing,

When I was six and you were four:

When garlands weaving, flower-balls throwing,

Were pleasures soon to please no more. Thro' groves and meads, o'er grass and heather, With little playmates, to and fro,

We wander'd hand in hand together;
But that was sixty years ago.

You grew a lovely roseate maiden,
And still our early love was strong;

Still with no care our days were lader

They glided joyously along;

And I did love you very dearly

LOVE AND AGE.

Then other lovers came around you,

Your beauty grew from year to year,
And many a splendid circle found you
The centre of its glittering sphere.

I saw you then, first vows forsaking,
On rank and wealth your hand bestow;

O, then, I thought my heart was breaking,--
But that was forty years ago.

And I lived on, to wed another :

No cause she gave me to repine;
And when I heard you were a mother,
I did not wish the children mine.

My own young flock, in fair progression,
Made up a pleasant Christmas row:

My joy in them was past expression;-
But that was thirty years ago.

You grew a matron plump and comely,
You dwelt in fashion's brightest blaze;