Later still the supper bells―― Busy bells! What a world of cheerful thought their melody compels, Of pleasant airs that float From operatic throat, Of farce and pantomime; But the bells begin to chime, And, alas! unlucky wight, Not for me is such delight, The pleasure-seekers claim me as their own; Be it man or be it woman, They are all alike inhuman―― They are ghouls Wanting soles, Sausages and rolls, Flowing bowls, Pie or tart, _Souper a-la-carte_, Lobster salad, oyster, Peppered grill, or something moister; And they chat and laugh and joke, Heedless of the yoke Of the bells―― Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, Which my presence through the weary night compels, Till morning comes again with the bells―― The merciless and everlasting bells. _Funny Folks_, April 3, 1875. ――――:o:―――― THE GIRLS. Hear the laughter of the girls―― Pretty girls. What a fund of merriment each ruby lip unfurls! How they chatter, chatter, chatter, In the balmy air of night! While the stars that over-spatter All the heavens hear their clatter In a soft and wild delight; To the tintinnabulation that, increasing, ever purls From the girls, girls, girls, girls. Girls, girls, girls, From the wild, capricious, saucy, jaunty girls. See the flirting of the girls, Radiant girls! How the lover’s softened brain wildly whirls Through the mazes of the ball, Up and down the stately hall! How he skips to and fro And perspires! Would that we could tell the idiot all we know Of the fires Into which the false ones hurl. Each new whim――see the flame――how it swirls! How it curls! How it curls! Better far that they were churls, Than fall victims to the girls; To the prattle and the rattle Of the girls, girls, girls, Of the girls, girls, girls, girls, Girls, girls, girls―― To the sacking and heart racking of the girls! _Merry Folks._ ――――:o:―――― THE BILLS. _After Poe, by a Mercantile Poet._