In Morning's dewy coronet,--
And his the Dusk's first minted stars
That twinkle through the pasture-bars,
And litter all the skies at night
With glittering scraps of silver light;--
The rainbow's bar, from rim to rim,
In beaten gold, belongs to him.




JACK THE GIANT KILLER.

_Bad Boy's Version_.

Tell you a story--an' it's a fac':--
Wunst wuz a little boy, name wuz Jack,
An' he had sword an' buckle an' strap
Maked of gold, an' a "'visibul cap;"
An' he killed Gi'nts 'at et whole cows--
Th' horns an' all--an' pigs an' sows!
But Jack, his golding sword wuz, oh!
So awful sharp 'at he could go
An' cut th' ole Gi'nts clean in two
Fore 'ey knowed what he wuz goin' to do!
An' _one_ ole Gi'nt, he had four
Heads, and name wuz "Bumblebore"--
An' he wuz feered o' Jack--'cause he,
_Jack_, he killed six--five--ten--three,
An' all o' th' uther ole Gi'nts but him: