I'll bring my books, though Mrs. Mee Says packing books is such a worry; I'll bring my "Golden Treasury," Manzoni--and, of course, a "Murray;" A TUPPER, whom you men despise; A Dante--Auntie owns a quarto-- I'll try and buy a smaller size, And read him on the _muro torto_. But can I go? _La Madre_ thinks It would be such an undertaking:-- I wish we could consult a sphynx;-- The thought alone has set her quaking. Papa--we do not mind Papa-- Has got some "notice" of some "motion," And could not stay; but, why not,--Ah, I've not the very slightest notion. The Browns have come to stay a week, They've brought the boys, I haven't thanked 'em, For Baby _Grand_, and Baby _Pic_, Are playing cricket in my sanctum: Your Rover too affects my den, And when I pat the dear old whelp, it ... It makes me think of you, and then ... And then I cry--I cannot help it. Ah, yes--before you left me, ere Our separation was impending, These eyes had seldom shed a tear-- For mine was joy that knew no ending; Yes, soon there came a change, too soon: The first faint cloud that rose to grieve me Was knowledge I possessed the boon, And then a fear such bliss might leave me. This strain is sad: yet, understand, Your words have made my spirit better: And when I first took pen in hand, I meant to write a cheery letter; But skies were dull,--Rome sounded hot, I fancied I could live without it: I thought I'd go--I thought I'd not, And then I thought I'd think about it. The sun now glances o'er the Park, If tears are on my cheek, they glitter; I think I've kissed your rhymes, for--hark! My "bulley" gives a saucy twitter. Your blessed words extinguish doubt, A sudden breeze is gaily blowing, And, hark! The minster bells ring out-- "She ought to go! Of course she's going." OLD LETTERS. Old letters! wipe away the tear For vows and hopes so vainly worded? A pilgrim finds his journal here Since first his youthful loins were girded. Yes, here are wails from Clapham Grove, How could philosophy expect us To live with Dr. Wise, and love Rice pudding and the Greek Delectus? Explain why childhood's path is sown With moral and scholastic tin-tacks; Ere sin original was known, Did Adam groan beneath the syntax? How strange to parley with the dead! _Keep ye your green_, wan leaves? How many From Friendship's tree untimely shed! And here is one as sad as any; A ghastly bill! "I disapprove," And yet She help'd me to defray it-- What tokens of a Mother's love! O, bitter thought! I can't repay it. And here's the offer that I wrote In '33 to Lucy Diver; And here John Wylie's begging note,-- He never paid me back a stiver.