In the Township of Nissouri,
There the hawk it came to sorrow,
But it strove often for to sink,
In vain it strove to drown the mink,
But mink it did successful balk,
All the attacks were made by hawk,
The bird was drenched, it could not fly,
And ne'er again it soared on high.
LINES WRITTEN IN A MENTAL ALBUM.
Where each one expressed some sentiment.
In this album you may trace,
If not the lineaments of face,
There at least you will find
Photographs of the mind.
Some in earnest some in fun,
Some do lecture some do pun,
Here the maiden and the youth,
Each proclaim some precious truth.
And there is here some fine pages,
Written by maturer ages,
Where they show that time is brief,
That soon comes sere and yellow leaf.
EVERY ROSE HATH ITS THORN.
There was a maiden all forlorn,
She loved a youth, his name was Thorn,
But he was shy for to disclose
How he loved dear the sweet May Rose.