REAK, break, break!
My cups and saucers, O scout;
And I'm glad that my tongue can't utter
The oaths that my soul points out.
It is well for the china-shop man
Who gets a fresh order each day;
And it's deucedly well for yourself,
Who are in the said china-man's pay.
And my stately vases go
To your uncle's, I ween, to be cashed;
And it's oh for the light of my broken lamp,
And the tick of my clock that is smashed.
Break, break, break!
At the foot of my stairs in glee;
But the coin I have spent in glass that is cracked
Will never come back to me.
The Shotover Papers.
ROLY said very smart things, and with surprising readiness. I was at his table one day when one of the guests inquired the name of a pyramidal dish of barley-sugar. Some one replied, "A pyramid à Macédoine." "For what use?" rejoined the other. "To give a Philip to the appetite," said Croly.
W. H. Harrison, Reminiscences.
ON SOME VERSES CALLED TRIFLES.
AUL, I have read your book, and though you write ill,
I needs must praise your most judicious title.
Anon.