THOUGH young no more, we still would dream Of beauty's dear deluding wiles; The leagues of life to graybeards seem Shorter than boyhood's lingering miles. Who knows a woman's wild caprice? 'It played with Goethe's silvered hair, And many a Holy Father's "niece" Has softly smoothed the papal chair. When sixty bids us sigh in vain To melt the heart of sweet sixteen, We think upon those ladies twain Who loved so well the tough old Dean. We see the Patriarch's wintry face, The maid of Egypt's dusky glow, And dream that Youth and Age embrace, As April violets fill with snow. Tranced in her lord's Olympian smile His lotus-loving Memphian lies,-- The musky daughter of the Nile, With plaited hair and almond eyes. Might we but share one wild caress Ere life's autumnal blossoms fall, And Earth's brown, clinging lips impress The long cold kiss that waits us all! My bosom heaves, remembering yet The morning of that blissful day, When Rose, the flower of spring, I met, And gave my raptured soul away. Flung from her eyes of purest blue, A lasso, with its leaping chain, Light as a loop of larkspurs, flew O'er sense and spirit, heart and brain. Thou com'st to cheer my waning age, Sweet vision, waited for so long! Dove that would seek the poet's cage Lured by the magic breath of song! She blushes! Ah, reluctant maid, Love's drapeau rouge the truth has told! O' er girlhood's yielding barricade Floats the great Leveller's crimson fold! Come to my arms!--love heeds not years; No frost the bud of passion knows. Ha! what is this my frenzy hears? A voice behind me uttered,--Rose! Sweet was her smile,--but not for me; Alas! when woman looks too kind, Just turn your foolish head and see,-- Some youth is walking close behind! CONTENTMENT "Man wants but little here below" LITTLE I ask; my wants are few; I only wish a hut of stone, (A _very plain_ brown stone will do,) That I may call my own;-- And close at hand is such a one, In yonder street that fronts the sun. Plain food is quite enough for me; Three courses are as good as ten;-- If Nature can subsist on three, Thank Heaven for three. Amen I always thought cold victual nice;-- My _choice_ would be vanilla-ice. I care not much for gold or land;-- Give me a mortgage here and there,-- Some good bank-stock, some note of hand, Or trifling railroad share,-- I only ask that Fortune send A _little_ more than I shall spend. Honors are silly toys, I know, And titles are but empty names; I would, _perhaps_, be Plenipo,-- But only near St. James; I'm very sure I should not care To fill our Gubernator's chair. Jewels are baubles; 't is a sin To care for such unfruitful things;-- One good-sized diamond in a pin,-- Some, not so large, in rings,-- A ruby, and a pearl, or so, Will do for me;--I laugh at show.