They thought I was mad.  Ah, my sweet, if they knew
    That my malady simply was dreaming of you!

    I’ve one wish.  ’Tis to sleep all the long ages through
    By your side, you my bride, and I dreaming of you.

Please Return.

    Now, all you pretty maids in town,
      Take heed of my sad plight. 
    I’ve lost a kiss; I’ll give a crown
      To get it back to-night.

    I threw it, poet-like, I own,
      Up to a silvery star;
    I must confess I might have known
      I could not throw so far.

    But, oh, surprise!  It circled round,
      And sank as though ’t were laden
    With love—­when almost to the ground
      ’T was caught by some young maiden.

    And that young maid I wish to find. 
      I’ve lost a kiss, alack! 
    It is not hers.  She’ll not be kind
      Unless she give it back.

Almost Dying of Ennui.

    What are the charms of the sea? 
      Oh for an hour of the city! 
    What are the dull waves to me? 
      Can they say anything witty?

    What do they care for my lips? 
      Why did I come?  It’s a pity! 
    Nothing but water and ships,
      And Jack far away in the city.

    Oh for one ride in the park,
      With Jack humming bars from a ditty;
    Kissing me (when it grows dark). 
      Fy!  Oh—­heigho, for the city!

Jacks from Jack.

    Fresh, fragrant, tempting, balmy, red—­
      What fool would send them back? 
    Why do I wish that I were dead,
      With all these jacks from Jack?

    Why do I bite my lips and frown,
      Tear buttons off my sacque,
    When, just returning to the town,
      I get these jacks from Jack?

    Alas, for pleasure’s giddy whirl,
      For summer lost, alack! 
    He’s off to see some other girl;
      That’s why mere jacks from Jack.

Hyacinths.

    Hyacinths, tenderly sweet,
      Is it life that you ask in your prayer? 
    Ah, I would die at her feet,
      If I could be one of you there.

    There on her billowy breast,
      So near to her innocent heart,
    That its beating would lull me to rest,
      And to dream I should never depart.

    Sighing are you for the stars? 
      Look in the depths of her eyes. 
    Is there a gem of the Czar’s
      So much like those gems of the skies?

    Is it the dew that you miss? 
      Hyacinths, hyacinths, wait. 
    Soon she will give you a kiss. 
      Oh, how I envy your fate!

In The Waltz.

AN ECHO FROM A SEASIDE HOP.

    Light as the waves foaming white on the bar,
    We dance to the mandolin, harp, and guitar;
    One, two, three, waltzing we glide round the room,—­
    Would you were bride, and ah, would I were groom!