Pilgrim—solus
So, he is off! the silly youth
Knoweth not Love in sober sooth.
He loves—thus lads at first are blind—
No woman, only womankind.
From the Poems of Thomas Bailey Aldrich, Household Edition, by permission of Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin & Co.
GIB HIM ONE UB MINE
BY DANIEL WEBSTER DAVIS
A little urchin, ragged, black,
An old cigar "stump" found,
And visions of a jolly smoke,
Began to hover 'round.
But finding that he had no match,
A big store he espied,
And straightway for it made a dash
To have his wants supplied.
"I have no match!" the owner said,
"And, even if I do,
I have no match, you understand,
For such a thing as you!"
Down in the ragged pantaloons,
The little black hand went,
And forth it came, now holding fast
A big old-fashioned cent.
"Gib me a box," the urchin said,
His bosom filled with joy;
And calmly lighted his "cigar,"
A radiant happy boy.
Then handing back the box, he said,
As his face with pride did shine:
"Nex' time a gent'mun wants a match,
Jes' gib him one ub mine!"