Long—long may it flourish, to all of us dear,
Loved and honoured by hearts that are true;
But, should ever a foe chance his nose to show here
He shall find all our Noses true Blue.
TO MARY
Oh! blame me not, Mary, for gazing at you,
Nor suppose that my thoughts from the Preacher were straying,
Tho' I stole a few glances—believe me 'tis true—
They were sweet illustrations of what he was saying.