They meet, but they never have spoken since that,-- He hopes she is happy--he knows she is fat; _She_ woo'd on the shore, now is wed in the Strand,-- And _I_--it was I wrote her name on the sand! MRS. SMITH. Last year I trod these fields with Di, And that's the simple reason why They now seem arid: Then Di was fair and single--how Unfair it seems on me--for now Di's fair, and married. In bliss we roved. I scorned the song Which says that though young Love is strong The Fates are stronger: Then breezes blew a boon to men-- Then buttercups were bright--and then This grass was longer. That day I saw, and much esteemed Di's ankles--which the clover seemed Inclined to smother: It twitched, and soon untied (for fun) The ribbons of her shoes--first one, And then the other. 'Tis said that virgins augur some Misfortune if their shoestrings come To grief on Friday: And so did Di--and so her pride Decreed that shoestrings so untied, "Are so untidy!" Of course I knelt--with fingers deft I tied the right, and then the left: Says Di--"This stubble Is very stupid--as I live I'm shocked--I'm quite ashamed to give You so much trouble." For answer I was fain to sink To what most swains would say and think Were Beauty present: "Don't mention such a simple act-- A trouble? not the least. In fact It's rather pleasant." I trust that love will never tease Poor little Di, or prove that he's A graceless rover. She's happy now as _Mrs. Smith_-- But less polite when walking with Her chosen lover. Heigh-ho! Although no moral clings To Di's soft eyes, and sandal strings, We've had our quarrels!-- I think that Smith is thought an ass, I know that when they walk in grass She wears balmorals. THE SKELETON IN THE CUPBOARD. The characters of great and small Come ready made, we can't bespeak one; Their sides are many, too,--and all (Except ourselves) have got a weak one. Some sanguine people love for life-- Some love their hobby till it flings them.-- And many love a pretty wife For love of the _eclat_ she brings them! We all have secrets--you have one Which may not be your charming spouse's,-- We all lock up a skeleton In some grim chamber of our houses; Familiars who exhaust their days And nights in probing where our smart is, And who, excepting spiteful ways, Are quiet, confidential "parties."