Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Reviews.
"I ' m sick of the Avorld audits trouble , For rest and seclusion I thirst ; 3 I ' m tired of the gay tinted bubble , That brighteneth only to burst !" Some of us may have actually experienced , in propria personi & , what the
poet so truthfully describes . "Too TRAJE . " 'Tis over ! It is done at last ! The fetters Cupid forges Were riveted quite hard and fast , Last Monday , at St . George ' s .
A shoddycrat Avith ample means , A priest intoning neatly , A bishop ancl tAvo rural deans , Have tied the knot completely .
"And so yours on your honeymoon , And Avear a golden fetter ; You speculate— 'tis rather soon" Is it for Averse or better ?" You ' re thinking of a year
ago'Twas just such sunny Aveather—But somehow time Avent not so slow When wo two were together . " A year ago , those pretty eyes A AVorld of truth reflected ; A year ago , your deepest si g hs
I never half suspected : A year ago , my tale I told , And you Avere glad to listen ; You Avere as pure , as good as gold , Or any maid fresh lcissen .
" In life s brief play you chose your part , Poor little foolish vendor 1 You sold your trustful loving heart For shoddy ancl for splendour . The sky so blue , the sea so glad , Brings joyous recollections ; And yet you seem a Avorld too sad For honeymoon reflections I "
We think that every one of our readers Will delight , as we did , in the tender tone and solemn " refrain" of Blankton Weir . "BLANKTON WEIR : " A Water-side Lyric . " 'Tis a queer old pile of timbersall gnarled
, and rough and green , Both moss-o ' ergroAvn andAVeed-covered , and jagg & d too , I ween ! 'Tis battered and ' tis spattered , all AVorn ancl knocked about , Beclamped Avith rusty rivets , and bepatched with timbers stout :
A tottering , trembling structure , enshrining memories dear , This weather-beaten harrier , this quaint old Blankton Weir . "While leaning on those withered rails
Avhat feelings oft come back , ' As I watch the white foam sparkling and note the current ' s track ; What croAvds of fleeting fancies come dancing through my brain ! And the good old days of Blankton I h
, ve them o ' er again ; What hopes and fears , gay smiles , sad tears , seemed mirrored in the mere , While looking on its glassy face by tell-tale Blankton Weir !
" I ' ve seen it basking ' neath the rays of summer ' s golden gloAV , Ancl when SAveetly by the moonlight , silver ripples ebb and AOAV ; When Nature starts in spring-time , aAvakening into life ;
When autumn leaves are falling , and the yellow corn is rife ; 'Mid the rime and sleet of Avinter , all through the live-long year , I ' ve watched the Avater rushing through this tide-worn Blankton Weir .
" And I mind me of one even , so calm ancl clear and bri ght , What songs we sang—whose voices rangthat lovely summer night . Where are the hearty voices noAV Avho trolled those good old lays 1
And where the silvery laughter that rang in byegone days 1 Come back that night of long ago ! Come back the moonli ght clear ! When hearts beat li ght , and eyes Arere bright , about old Blankton Weir .
was ever indolence so SAveet , Avere ever days so fine , As when we lounged in that old punt and played Avith rod and line ? 'Tis true few fish we caught there , but the good old ale Ave quaffed ,
As Ave chatted , too , and smoked there , and idled , dreamed , and laughed : Then thought AVe only of to-day , of morrow ] lacl no fear , For SOITOAV scarce had tinged the stream that floAved through Blankton Weir ,
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Reviews.
"I ' m sick of the Avorld audits trouble , For rest and seclusion I thirst ; 3 I ' m tired of the gay tinted bubble , That brighteneth only to burst !" Some of us may have actually experienced , in propria personi & , what the
poet so truthfully describes . "Too TRAJE . " 'Tis over ! It is done at last ! The fetters Cupid forges Were riveted quite hard and fast , Last Monday , at St . George ' s .
A shoddycrat Avith ample means , A priest intoning neatly , A bishop ancl tAvo rural deans , Have tied the knot completely .
"And so yours on your honeymoon , And Avear a golden fetter ; You speculate— 'tis rather soon" Is it for Averse or better ?" You ' re thinking of a year
ago'Twas just such sunny Aveather—But somehow time Avent not so slow When wo two were together . " A year ago , those pretty eyes A AVorld of truth reflected ; A year ago , your deepest si g hs
I never half suspected : A year ago , my tale I told , And you Avere glad to listen ; You Avere as pure , as good as gold , Or any maid fresh lcissen .
" In life s brief play you chose your part , Poor little foolish vendor 1 You sold your trustful loving heart For shoddy ancl for splendour . The sky so blue , the sea so glad , Brings joyous recollections ; And yet you seem a Avorld too sad For honeymoon reflections I "
We think that every one of our readers Will delight , as we did , in the tender tone and solemn " refrain" of Blankton Weir . "BLANKTON WEIR : " A Water-side Lyric . " 'Tis a queer old pile of timbersall gnarled
, and rough and green , Both moss-o ' ergroAvn andAVeed-covered , and jagg & d too , I ween ! 'Tis battered and ' tis spattered , all AVorn ancl knocked about , Beclamped Avith rusty rivets , and bepatched with timbers stout :
A tottering , trembling structure , enshrining memories dear , This weather-beaten harrier , this quaint old Blankton Weir . "While leaning on those withered rails
Avhat feelings oft come back , ' As I watch the white foam sparkling and note the current ' s track ; What croAvds of fleeting fancies come dancing through my brain ! And the good old days of Blankton I h
, ve them o ' er again ; What hopes and fears , gay smiles , sad tears , seemed mirrored in the mere , While looking on its glassy face by tell-tale Blankton Weir !
" I ' ve seen it basking ' neath the rays of summer ' s golden gloAV , Ancl when SAveetly by the moonlight , silver ripples ebb and AOAV ; When Nature starts in spring-time , aAvakening into life ;
When autumn leaves are falling , and the yellow corn is rife ; 'Mid the rime and sleet of Avinter , all through the live-long year , I ' ve watched the Avater rushing through this tide-worn Blankton Weir .
" And I mind me of one even , so calm ancl clear and bri ght , What songs we sang—whose voices rangthat lovely summer night . Where are the hearty voices noAV Avho trolled those good old lays 1
And where the silvery laughter that rang in byegone days 1 Come back that night of long ago ! Come back the moonli ght clear ! When hearts beat li ght , and eyes Arere bright , about old Blankton Weir .
was ever indolence so SAveet , Avere ever days so fine , As when we lounged in that old punt and played Avith rod and line ? 'Tis true few fish we caught there , but the good old ale Ave quaffed ,
As Ave chatted , too , and smoked there , and idled , dreamed , and laughed : Then thought AVe only of to-day , of morrow ] lacl no fear , For SOITOAV scarce had tinged the stream that floAved through Blankton Weir ,