NEW AND OLD.
(By One who prefers the Old.)
Soft hair that ripples like a lake
What time the water-lilies wake,
Fair rosy cheeks and eyes of blue,
Clear windows that the soul sees through,
A moving grace, a brow of snow:
Such were the girls we used to know.
But now we tremble as we spy
Woman's advancing majesty:
The flashing eyes, the brows that knit,
The ready tongue all themes to fit,
The heavy stride—the hose in hue
Unlike her eyes and deeply blue.
Gone are the locks of golden brown
That hung on gleaming shoulders down:
Close-cropped as never Roundhead knave
In sternest times aspired to shave,
Not Milton's self, however blind,
To toy with such had felt inclined.
O monstrous growth of modern times,
Not thine the lilt of lover's rhymes,
Whom some grim don perchance may wed,
Who scorns the heart and sues the head:
Farewell for ever and a day,
Miss Araminta Jones, B.A.!
A TASTE TO BE ACQUIRED.
Sporting Farmer (to young Pupil from provincial town, who has just made his first effort to ride over a Fence). "Now then, jump on again! Better luck next time! You'll like it after a bit!"
Pupil (still seeing stars). "Shall I, Sir? Seems to me as much like a Railway Collision as anything!"