THE BACHELOR'S DREAM hat d'ye think of that, my cat? hat d'ye think of that, my dog?

ow was not that an awful dream
›r one who single is and snug
ith Pussy in the elbow-chair,
nd Tray reposing on the rug?
I must totter down the hill,
is safest done without a clog —
What d'ye think of that, my cat?
What d'ye think of that, my dog?

THOMAS HOOD

SHALL I, WASTING IN DESPAIR

SHALL I, wasting in despair,

Die because a woman's fair?

Or my cheeks make pale with care
'Cause another's rosy are?

Be she fairer than the day

Or the flowery meads in May
If she be not so to me

What care I how fair she be?

Shall my foolish heart be pined
'Cause I see a woman kind;
Or a well disposéd nature
Joined with a lovely feature?
Be she meeker, kinder, than
Turtle-dove or pelican,

If she be not so to me

What care I how kind she be?

Shall a woman's virtue move

Me to perish for her love?

Or her merit's value known

Make me quite forget my own?

ALL I, WASTING IN DESPAIR

e she with that goodness blest hich may gain her name of Best; If she seem not so to me,

What care I how good she be?

Cause her fortune seems too high, mall I play the fool and die?

hose that bear a noble mind

Where they want of riches find, "hink what with them they would do

Who without them dare to woo:

And unless that mind I see,
What care I tho' great she be?

Great or good, or kind or fair,
will ne'er the more despair;
If she loves me, this believe,
I will die ere she shall grieve;
If she slight me when I woo,
I can scorn and let her go;

For if she be not for me,

What care I for whom she be?

GEORGE WITHER

IF

Oн, if the world were mine, Love,

I'd give the world for thee!

Alas! there is no sign, Love,

Of that contingency.

Had fame with laurels crowned me, She has n't, up to date,

Nor time nor change had found me To love and thee ingrate.

If death threw down his gage, Love, Though life is dear to me,

I'd die, e'en of old age, Love,

To win a smile from thee.

IF

t being poor, we part, dear,
And love, sweet love, must die;
ou wilt not break thy heart, dear,
No more, I think, shall I!

JAMES JEFFREY ROCHE