Was never beast so cautious seen As Tiny our pet hare; He sniffs at dado, chair, and screen, With such suspicious care. Yet when his nightly quest is o'er, Each rift and corner scanned, He'll spring around and snatch his store Of parsley from my hand. With Puss let all suspicion end; The jealous heart will rue; Ah! never doubt an ancient friend, Though wary with the new. [Illustration] THE WATCHFUL DOG. One ear he held, a flapping dockleaf, low, The other pricking like a horn on high; This heeded all around that come and go, And this the larks careering up the sky. Smile, twofold man, yet own your emblem here, Spirit and flesh alert for duty's call; And, 'mid the discords of this earthly sphere, Hearken the voice of Heaven above them all. THE PUPPIES AND THE THUNDER. We heard the puppies madly scold, When crashed on high the thundering peal; They leaped aloft, as though to hold The lightning by the heel. And as the flashes followed fast, Still sharper rang the yelping tone, Till hoarse and worn they sank at last, Yet rolled the thunder on. So worth above detraction's rout Maintains its even lofty course, And clamour ceases, wearied out With its own futile force. EMBLEM OF TRUE PHILOSOPHY. At fashion's call with cruel shears They cropped poor Tray's superfluous ears; Twice shrieked the mutilated pup, Then sniffed and ate the fragments up, Nor stayed his losses to deplore, But wagged his tail and craved for more. Here, without Tupper, we may see The marrow of philosophy, The how and where with natural ease To stow away our miseries; Nor simply to gulp down our pain, But turn disaster into gain; And when her scissors shear our pate To batten on the spoils of Fate. [Illustration] THE GUIDE-POST. Vainly, unlettered youth, you come And scrutinise each painted word, No aid those arms all fixed and dumb, To your perplexity afford. God's ministers life's guide-posts are, And to the people roundly tell At each cross road and thoroughfare, The track to Heaven, the ways to Hell. Still more, they purge the darkened mind With helping hands and tongues of fire; What boots the guide-post to the blind, Or paralytic in the mire? THE WAYSIDE MONITOR. To one of Nature's loving tricks Chance lent a solemn power, A skull beneath a crucifix Upheld a shining flower. This by the road a traveller saw, And wondering could not chuse But nearer still and nearer draw, In silence then to muse. To faith he owned with bated breath An emblematic call; Life blooming in the jaws of death, And Jesus over all. THE BOOMERANG.