My creation is a blessing To the indigent secured, Banishing the cares distressing Which so many have endured: Mine are sinews superhuman, Ribs of oak and nerves of steel-- I'm the Iron Needle-Woman Born to toil and not to feel. My Lady Waits for Me. Suggested by a popular German melody. My lady waits!--'Tis now the hour When morn unbars her gates!-- My vessel glides beneath the tower Where now my lady waits. Her signal flutters from the wall, Above the friendly sea! I life but to obey her call! My lady waits for me. My lady waits--for me she waits, While morning opes her golden gates. My lady waits!--No fairer flower E'er deck'd the floral grove, Than she, the pride of hall and bower, The lady of my love! The eastern hills are flecked with light, The land-breeze curls the sea! By love and truth sustained, for flight, My lady waits for me. My lady waits--for me she waits, While morning opes her golden gates. Music. The wind-harp has music it moans to the tree, And so has the shell that complains to the sea, The lark that sings merrily over the lea, The reed of the rude shepherd boy! We revel in music when day has begun, When rock-fountains gush into glee as they run, And stars of the morn sing their hymns to the sun, Who brightens the hill-tops with joy! The spirit of melody floats in the air, Her instruments tuning to harmony there, Our senses beguiling from sorrow and care, In blessings sent down from above! But Nature has music far more to my choice-- And all in her exquisite changes rejoice! No tones thrill my heart like the dear human voice When breathed by the being I love! The Millionaire. In the upper circles Moves a famous man Who has had no equal Since the world began. He was once a broker Down by the exchange; He is now a nabob-- Don't you think it strange? In his low back office, Near the Bowling Green, With his brother brokers He was often seen;-- Shaving and discounting, Dabbling in the stocks, He achieved a fortune Of a million ROCKS!' Next he formed a marriage With a lady fair, And his splendid carriage Bowled about THE square, Where his spacious mansion Like a palace stood, Envied and admired By the multitude. Then he took the tour Of the continent, Bearer of dispatches From the President: A legation button By permission wore, And became that worthy, An official bore. Charmed with foreign countries, Lots of coin to spend, He a house in London Took a the West End, Where he dwelt a season, And in grandeur shone, But to all the beau monde Utterly unknown. England then was "foggy, And society Too aristocratic" For his--pedigree: So he crossed the channel To escape the BLUES, And became the idol Of the parvenues.