It looks, ah me! how trite and tamed!
It fails to sadden or appal

Or solace it is not the same
At all.

O thou to whom it first occurr'd

To solder the disjoin'd, and dower
Thy native language with a word
Of power;

We bless thee! Whether far or near
Thy dwelling, whether dark or fair
Thy kingly brow, is neither here
Nor there.

But in men's hearts shall be thy throne, While the great pulse of England beats: Thou coiner of a word unknown

To Keats!

And nevermore must printer do
As men did long ago; but run
"For" into " ever," bidding two
Be one.

Forever! passion-fraught, it throws
O'er the dim page a gloom, a glamour :
It's sweet, it's strange; and I suppose
It's grammar.

Forever! 'Tis a single word!

And yet our fathers deem'd it two: Nor am I confident they err'd;

Are you?

CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY.

THE SCHOOLMASTER ABROAD WITH

HIS SON

Он, what harper could worthily harp it,
Mine Edward! this wide-stretching wold
(Look out wold) with its wonderful carpet
Of emerald, purple, and gold?
Look well at it-also look sharp, it
Is getting so cold.

The purple is heather (erica);

The yellow gorse-call'd sometimes "whin." Cruel boys on its prickles might spike a Queen beetle as if on a pin.

You may ride in it, if you would like a
Few holes in your skin.

You wouldn't? Then think of how kind you
Should be to the insects who crave
Your compassion-and then look behind you
At yon barley-ears! Don't they look brave
As they undulate (undulate, mind you,
From unda, a wave.)

The noise of those sheep-bells, how faint it
Sounds here (on account of oar height)!
And this hillock itself, who could paint it,
With its changes of shadow and light?
Is it not-(never, Eddie, say "ain't it ")-
A marvellous sight?

Then yon desolate eerie morasses,

The haunt of the snipe and the hern-
(I shall question the two upper classes
On aquatiles when we return)—
Why, I see on them absolute masses
Of felix, or fern.

How it interests e'en a beginner
(Or tiro) like dear little Ned!
Is he listening? As I am a sinner,
He's asleep he is wagging his head.
Wake up! I'll go home to my dinner,
And you to your bed.

The boundless ineffable prairie ;

The splendour of mountain and lake,
With their hues that seem ever to vary;
The mighty pine-forests which shake
In the wind, and in which the unwary
May tread on a snake;

And this wold, with its heathery garment, Are themes undeniably great.

But although there is not any harm in 't-
It's perhaps little good to dilate

On their charms to a dull little varmint
Of seven or eight.

CHARLES Stuart CalveRLEY.

THE WALRUS AND THE

CARPENTER

Of this pure good fun-plenty of rhyme but no reasona reader, who took things rather more seriously than is needful, once said, "I do think this poem has a bad moral-the misleading of little helpless animals." Well, if one could be sorry for trotting oysters, no doubt one would be. But just think of an oyster giving its hand to a walrus, and trotting!

THE sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make

The billows smooth and bright-
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done-
"It's very rude of him," she said,
To come and spoil the fun."

The sea was wet as wet could be,
The lands were dry as dry.

You could not see a cloud because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead-
There were no birds to fly.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:

"If this were only cleared away,'
They said, "It would be grand."

"If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose," the Walrus said,
"That they could get it clear?
"I doubt it," said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.

"O Oysters, come and walk with us!"
The Walrus did beseech.
"A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach :

We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each."

The eldest Oyster looked at him,
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head-
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster bed.

But four young oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:

Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,

Their shoes were clean and neat

And this was odd, because, you know,

They hadn't any feet.

Four other oysters followed them,

And yet another four;

And thick and fast they came at last,

And more, and more, and more