THE PRESS OF PENURY.
Out of the Press of Penury
The choicest wines have flowed
To rouse a nation’s blood
(Nor less to hearts the poet’s cause
Than statesman’s counseling:—
If but a people sing,
I care not who shall make the laws.)
With every cycling sun that slips
Through all its winding turns,
Some Lincoln or some Burns
Still lifts his spirit to our lips.
HALLOWEEN.
AN INVITATION SENT TO A LADY, OCT. 31.
I wad na gang alane to-night
An’ leave alane a lassie
Where pixies, elves, an’ goblins fight
An’ drink their bogie tassie.
Sae come wi’ me an’ gang awa’
Where oufe nor spook nor bogle
Hae ought o’ ill or guid to do
But flichter, blink, an’ ogle.
Oh we’ll be merry like the lave
Tho’ Halloween be eerie,
An’ crack an’ jauk an’ giddy ’have
Wi’ Mrs. C—— till weary.