The Colonel!--Such a creature! I met him at the ball!-- So fair in form and feature, And so divinely tall! He praised my dimpled cheeks and curls, While whirling through the dance, And matched me with the dark-eyed girls Of Italy and France! He said, in accents thrilling-- "Love's boundless as the sea; And I, dear maid, am willing To give up all for thee!" I heard him--blushed--"Would ask mamma"-- And then my eyes grew dim! He looked--I said, "Mamma--papa-- I'd give up all for him!" My governor is rich and old; This well the Colonel knew. "Love's wings," he said, "when fringed with gold, Are beautiful to view!" I thought his 'havior quite the ton, Until I saw him stare When merely told that--brother--John-- Papa--would--make--his--heir! Next day and the day after I dressed for him in vain; Was moved to tears and laughter-- He never came again! But I have heard, for Widow Dash He bought the bridal ring; And he will we her for her cash-- The ugly, hateful thing! The Sweep's Carol. [See Notes] Through the streets of New York City, Blithely every morn, I carolled o'er my artless ditty, Cheerly though forlorn! Before the rosy light, my lay Was to the maids begun, Ere winters snows had passed away, Or smiled the summer sun. CAROL--O--a--y--e--o! In summer months I'd fondly woo Those merry, dark-eyed girls, With faces of ebon hue, And teeth like eastern pearls! One vowed my love she would repay-- Her heart my song had won-- When winter snows had passed away, And smiled the summer sun. CAROL--O--a--y--e--o! A year, alas! had scarcely flown-- Hope beamed but to deceive-- Ere I was left to weep alone, From morn till dewy eve! She died one dreary break of day!-- Grief weighs my heart upon!-- In vain the snows may pass away, Or smile the summer sun. CAROL--O--a--y--e--o! The Seasons of Love. The spring-time of love Is both happy and gay, For joy sprinkles blossoms And balm in our way; The sky, earth, and ocean, In beauty repose, And all the bright future Is COLEUR DE ROSE. The summer of love Is the bloom of the heart, When hill, grove, and valley, Their music impart; And the pure glow of heaven Is seen in fond eyes, As lakes show the rainbow That's hung in the skies. The autumn of love Is the season of cheer-- Life's mild Indian summer, The smile of the year! Which comes when the golden Ripe harvest is stored, And yields its own blessings-- Repose and reward. The winter of love Is the beam that we win While the storm scowls without, From the sunshine within. Love's reign is eternal-- The heart is his throne, And he has all seasons Of life for his own. My Woodland Bride.