With thee would De Musset
      Sweeten his muse;
      Use, not abuse,
      Bright little fellow! 
      (The green, not the yellow.)
      O the taste and the smell!  O
      Never refuse
      A kiss on the lips from
      Jealous Chartreuse!’

      THE LIFE-LEDGER.

      ’Our sufferings we reckon o’er
        With skill minute and formal;
      The cheerful ease that fills the score
        We treat as merely normal. 
      Our list of ills, how full, how great! 
        We mourn our lot should fall so;
      I wonder, do we calculate
        Our happinesses also?

      ’Were it not best to keep account
        Of all days, if of any? 
      Perhaps the dark ones might amount
        To not so very many. 
      Men’s looks are nigh as often gay
        As sad, or even solemn: 
      Behold, my entry for to-day
        Is in the “happy” column.’

OCTOBER.

’The year grows old; summer’s wild crown of roses
Has fallen and faded in the woodland ways;
On all the earth a tranquil light reposes,
Through the still dreamy days.

’The dew lies heavy in the early morn,
On grass and mosses sparkling crystal-fair;
And shining threads of gossamer are borne
Floating upon the air,

’Across the leaf-strewn lanes, from bough to bough
Like tissue woven in a fairy loom;
And crimson-berried bryony garlands glow
Through the leaf-tangled gloom.

’The woods are still, but for the sudden fall
Of cupless acorns dropping to the ground,
Or rabbit plunging through the fern-stems tall,
Half-startled by the sound.

’And from the garden lawn comes, soft and clear,
The robin’s warble from the leafless spray,
The low sweet Angelus of the dying year,
Passing in light away.’

PROSPERITY.

’I doubt if the maxims the Stoic adduces
Be true in the main, when they state
That our nature’s improved by adversity’s uses,
And spoilt by a happier fate.

’The heart that is tried by misfortune and pain,
Self-reliance and patience may learn;
Yet worn by long waiting and wishing in vain,
It often grows callous and stern.

’But the heart that is softened by ease and contentment,
Feels warmly and kindly t’wards all;
And its charity, roused by no moody resentment,
Embraces alike great and small.

’So, although in the season of rain-storms and showers,
The tree may strike deeper its roots,
It needs the warm brightness of sunshiny hours
To ripen the blossoms and fruits.’

Observe, not only the genuine merit of these five pieces, but the
variety in the tones of thought:  then compare them with similar
productions of the days, say, of the once famous L.E.L.