They call the man unfortunate who ruins half the city,—
In my day ’twas his creditors to whom we gave our pity.
But then, I tell my daughter,
Folks don’t do as they’d ough’-ter.”
From the Olive Branch.
THE SPRING JOURNEY.
O, green was the corn as I rode on my way,
And bright were the dews on the blossoms of May,
And dark was the sycamore’s shade to behold,
And the oak’s tender leaf was of emerald and gold.