The Continental Monthly, Vol. 3 No 2, February 1863: Devoted To Literature And National PolicyVarious
History
The Continental Monthly, Vol. 3 No 2, February 1863: Devoted To Literature And National Policy
Various
Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; United States -- Politics and government -- 19th century -- Periodicals
In this world nothing is constant save inconstancy. Nature changes all
things, night and morn, and when she puts on again her former semblance,
still it is only a semblance, and never the very same. Young
ladies--when your lovers vow to be true forever to love--you may believe
them; but whether they will be eternally true to you, admits of
reflection. Such at least seems to have been the life-philosophy of him
who penned the following poem:
BY THE STREAM.
Oh water that ever art roving!
O fountain that never canst move!
Oh fancy--some new flame still loving!
O heart, ever constant to love!
The waterfall rustled and glistened,
Till it seemed like a musical flame,
And I lay and I looked and I listened
Till the nymph of the waterfall came.
It was no Undine or Lurley
(Though I thought her as beautiful still)
That came in the evening early--
But a bare-footed maid from the mill.
The pitcher too frequently laden
Must break and be lost at the worst,
But the young heart, when full of a maiden,
Of the twain will be broken the first.
But the pitcher, when cracked by a tumble,
Must be laid, till repaired, on the shelf,
While the heart, although shattered and humble,
Will be mended in time by itself.
And we vowed that we loved--but with laughter,
And we kissed with our feet in the brook;
She left me--my whistle rung after,
To win from the maid a last look.
And months have flown by since I missed her,
For afar with another she's flown;
And now I wait here for her sister,
To vow that I've loved her alone.
Oh water that ever art roaming!
Oh fountain that never canst move!
Oh fancy--some new flame still loving!
Oh heart ever constant to--love!
Sing it, reader, 'if thou canst sing.' A lady friend assures us that it
goeth well unto voice and pianoforte.
* * * * *
YE JOLLIE POACHER.
'Twas I that kept a shoddy mill
In starving Lancashire;
And shaved the Yankees shamefully
For many and many a year.
The mill is stopped, I'm raving mad,
As from the _Times_ you hear;
Oh it's my delight to bark and bite
At all times of the year.
* * * * *
The
Continental Monthly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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