’Twas there, above the hollyhocks, The blue birds thronged the martin-box That wrongly housed them. There too, from out the red oak grove, Their brother bandits came and strove In vain to oust them. And there, a flock of noisy geese Down to the brimming pond in peace Would oft meander―― To come again when day declined, Wide-waddling homeward, strung behind Their valiant gander. All’s past――I only thought to spin Gold thread of sunny dreams within This cushioned “rocker.” My blood’s too slow――too weak my nerves For poaching on the choice preserves Of Frederick Locker. C. H. L. _The Philadelphia Evening Bulletin._ ――――:o:―――― HIS GIRL. Oh, she wears a sealskin sacque, When it snows; And her stunning suit is black As a crow’s; Short; and thinks it is a pity, Charming, jolly, wise, and witty: Has a retroussé――so pretty―― Little nose. In her basket phaeton, When it blows, With her striking glasses on, Out she goes; And she’s just as sweet as stately, And she sits there so sedately, With her cheeks and lips so greatly Like a rose. She plays Chopin, Liszt, and Spohr For her beaux. And she speak of “Pinafore”―― Heaven knows! With a naughty “D” and “Never!” But she’s awful nice and clever; If she liked me, I’d endeavour To propose. _Detroit Free Press._ 1882. ―――― AN INVITATION TO ROME Oh, come to Rome, it is a pleasant place Your London sun is here, and smiling brightly; The Briton, too, puts on his cheery face, And Mrs. Bull acquits herself politely. The Romans are an easy going race, With simple wives, more dignified than sprightly; I see them at their doors, as day is closing, Prouder than duchesses, and more imposing. * * * * * 1863. FREDERICK LOCKER. ―――― MR. GLADSTONE IN ROME. “_Caffè-latte!_ I call to the waiter,――_Non c’e latte_. This is the answer he makes me, and this is the sign of a battle.” CLOUGH in 1848. 1. Old Rome in December. Take out your umbrella For we picnic no more with CÆCILIA METELLA, While flirtation is wholly unheard in the sheeny And shadowy paths of the Aldobrandini. MR. LOCKER, to Rome a poetical rover, Has, sketched us the flirts, and the croquet moreover, He’ll smile as he sees, in the shade of St. Peter’s How coolly we’ve stolen his phrases and metres. 2.