A CHARADE.
If my studious Lillian,
This charade will careful scan,
With knit brow and red lips pursed,
She will then unconscious show
To all such as care to know
An example of my first.
My second is what divine truths are,
And Alpine heights that gleam afar,
And hills of Scottish heather;
And what are not all human blisses,
The little loves of little misses,
Winds, waves, and April weather.
If from my second some sad dawn
You find your favorite palfrey gone,
Don't lock the door, and don't
Sit down and cry. To chase the thief
Despatch my whole: it's my belief
He 'll catch him, or—he won't.
Con-stable.