What do the plants toil at? I thought we knew they toil not, neither do they spin. It goes on—
“Then the cattle and the flowers
Yet shall raise their drooping heads,
And, refreshed by plenteous showers,
Lie down joyful in their beds.”
Whether the flowers are to lie down in the cattle beds or the cattle are to lie down in the flower beds does not perhaps distinctly appear, but I venture to think that either catastrophe is not so much to be desired as the poet seems to imagine.
In the Diary of Jeames yellowplush a couplet of Lord Lytton’s Sea Captain is thus dealt with—
“Girl, beware,
The love that trifles round the charms it gilds
Oft ruins while it shines.”
“Igsplane this men and angels! I’ve tried everyway, back’ards, for’ards, and in all sorts of tranceposishons as thus—
The love that ruins round the charms it shines
Gilds while it trifles oft,
or
The charm that gilds around the love it ruins
Oft trifles while it shines,
or