The tiny war-whoop; now I hear it not. 
  A cowardly assassin he; he waits,
  Full well aware that I am on the alert,
  With murderous intent.  Perchance he’s gone,
  Hawk-eye and nose of hound not serving him
  To find me in the dark.  With a long sigh,
  I beat my pillow, close my useless eyes,
  And soon again my thoughts whirl giddily,
  Verging towards dreams.  Starting, I shake my bed;—­
  Loud thumps my heart,—­rises on end my hair! 
  A murder-screech, and yells of frantic fury,
  Under my very window,—­a duet
  Of fiendish hatred, battle to the death,—­
  ’T is enough to enrage a man!  Missile I seize,
  Not caring what, and with a savage “Scat!”
  That scrapes my throat, let drive.  I would it were
  A millstone!  Swiftly through the garden beds
  And o’er the fence on either side they fly;
  I to my couch return, but not to sleep. 
  Weary I toss, and think ’t is almost dawn,
  So still the streets; but now the latest train,
  Whistling melodiously, comes in; the tramp
  Of feet, and hum of voices, echo far
  In the still night air.  Now with joy I feel
  My eyelids droop once more.  To sleep and dream
  Is bliss unspeakable;—­I’m going off;—­
  What was I thinking last?—­slowly I rise
  On downy pinions; dreaming, I fly, I soar;—­
  Through the clouds my way I’m winging,
  Angels to their harps are singing,
  Strains of unearthly sweetness lull me,
  And thrilling harmonies——­“Yelp!  Bow-wow-wow!”
  “Get out!”—­“The dog has got me by the leg!”
  “Stave him off!  Will you?  See, he’s rent my pants,
  My newest plaid!—­Kick him!”—­“Yow, yow!”—­“This house
  I’ll never serenade again!—­A dog
  Should know musicians from suspicious chaps,
  And gentlemen from rowdies, even at night!”
  “Beat him again!” “No, no!  Perhaps ’t is HERS! 
  A lady’s pet! Methinks the curtain moves! 
  She’s looking out!  Let’s sing once more!  Just once!”
  “Not I.—­I’ll sing no more to-night!” and steps
  Limping unequally, and grumbling voice,
  Pass round the corner, and are heard no more.

TO THE NEAR-SIGHTED.

Purblind and short-sighted friends!  You will listen to me,—­you will sympathize with me; for you know by painful experience what I mean when I say that we near-sighted people do not receive from our hawk-eyed neighbors that sympathy and consideration to which we are justly entitled.  If we were blind, we should be abundantly pitied, but as we are only half-blind, such comments as these are all the consolation we get.  “Oh! near-sighted, is she?  Yes, it is very fashionable now-a-days for young ladies to carry eye-glasses, and call themselves near-sighted!” Or, “Pooh!  It’s all affectation.  She can see as well as any body, if she chooses.  She thinks it is pretty to half shut her eyes, and cut her acquaintances.”