338.
The hunter and his steed are known
My first to see.
Though men may call my next a stone,
Wood it may be.
My whole, an exile from his home,
Is doomed from place to place to roam.
339. A CHARADE
My first expresses power to do,
My next that it is done.
To be my whole belongs to few,
And perfectly to none.
340. A CHARADE
In my first, as in a shell,
All the sweetest sounds may dwell;
In my second, shells abound
That can catch no sort of sound;
In my whole securely rest
Those who neither jeer nor jest.