Patrons, I greet you with feelings of gratitude; Ladies, to please you is ever my care-- Nor wish I, on earth, for a sweeter beatitude, If I but bask in the smiles of the fair. Such bliss to a poet is precious--you know it-- And while you bestow it, the heart feels content: Your bounty has made us, and still you will aid us, But some have not paid us--we hope they'll repent! For holyday pleasure, why these are the times for it; Pardon me, then, for so trifling a lay; This stanza shall end it, if I can find rhymes for it-- May you, dear patrons, be happy to-day! Tho' life is so fleeting, and pleasure so cheating, That we are oft meeting with accidents here, Should Fate seek to dish you, oh then may the issue Be what I now wish you--A HAPPY NEW YEAR! The Hero's Legacy. Upon the couch of death, The champion of the free, Gave, with his parting breath, This solemn legacy:-- "Sheathed be the battle-blade, "And hushed the cannons' thunder: "The glorious UNION GOD hath made, "Let no man put asunder! "War banish from the land, "Peace cultivate with all! "United you must stand, "Divided you will fall! "Cemented with our blood, "The UNION keep unriven!" While freemen heard this counsel good, His spirit soared to heaven. What Can It Mean? (Written for Miss Poole, and sung by her in the character of cowslip.) I'm much too young to marry, For I am only seventeen; Why think I, then, of Harry? What can it mean--what can it mean? Wherever Harry meets me, Beside the brook or on the green, How tenderly he greets me! What can it mean--what can it mean? Whene'er my name he utters, A blush upon my cheek is seen!-- His voice my bosom flutters!-- What can it mean--what can it mean? If he but mentions Cupid, Or, smiling, calls me "fairy queen," I sigh, and looks so stupid!-- What can it mean--what can it mean? Oh, mercy! what can ail me? I'm growing wan and very lean; My spirits often fail me! What can it mean--what can it mean? I'm not in love!--No!--Smother Such a thought at seventeen! I'll go and ask my mother-- "What can it mean--what can it mean?" Where Hudson's Wave. Where Hudson's wave o'er silvery sands Winds through the hills afar, Old Cronest like a monarch stands, Crowned with a single star! And there, amid the billowy swells Of rock-ribbed, cloud-capped earth, My fair and gentle Ida dwells, A nymph of mountain-birth. The snow-flake that the cliff receives, The diamonds of the showers, Spring's tender blossoms, buds, and leaves, The sisterhood of flowers, Morn's early beam, eve's balmy breeze, Her purity define; Yet Ida's dearer far than these To this fond breast of mine. My heart is on the hills. The shades Of night are on my brow; Ye pleasant haunts and quiet glades, My soul is with you now! I bless the star-crowned highlands where My Ida's footsteps roam: O for a falcon's wing to bear Me onward to my home! Au Revoir.