But once last night she danced with me, her hand
To this gallant and that engaged, as soon
As asked for! Maid that loved would scarce do this!
Nor visit we together as we used,
When first she came to town. She loves me less
Than once she did--or loves me not at all.
Misfortune liketh company: it seldom
Visits its friends alone.


A MAIDEN HEART.

A young woman's heart,
Is not a stone to carve a posey on!
Which knows not what is writ on't--which you may buy,
Exchange or sell,--keep or give away,
It is a richer--yet a poorer thing!
Priceless to him that owns and prizes it;
Worthless when own'd, not priz'd; which makes the man
That covets it, obtains it, and discards it,--
A fool, if not a villain.


A CURATE'S SON.

Better be a yeoman's son!
Was it the rector's son, he might be known,
Because the rector is a rising man,
And may become a bishop. He goes light.
The curate ever hath a loaded back.