And I could n't help thinking the beauty, In mourning the loved and the lost, Was doing her conjugal duty

Altogether regardless of cost!

One surely would say a devotion
Performed at so vast an expense
Betrayed an excess of emotion

That was really something immense;
And yet as I viewed, at my leisure,
Those tokens of tender regard,

I thought: It is scarce without measure The sorrow that goes by the yard!

Ah! grief is a curious passion;
And yours — I am sorely afraid
The very next phase of the fashion
Will find it beginning to fade;
Though dark are the shadows of grief,
The morning will follow the night,
Half-tints will betoken relief,

Till joy shall be symbolled in white!

Ah well!-it were idle to quarrel
With Fashion, or aught she may do ;
And so I conclude with a moral

And metaphor - warranted new: When measles come handsomely out, The patient is safest, they say ; And the Sorrow is mildest, no doubt, That works in a similar way!

THE EXPECTED SHIP.

HUS I heard a poet say,

THUS

As he sang in merry glee,

"Ah! 't will be a golden day,

When my ship comes o'er the sea!

"I do know a cottage fine,

As a poet's house should be, And the cottage shall be mine, When my ship comes o'er the sea!

"I do know a maiden fair,

Fair, and fond, and dear to me,

And we'll be a wedded pair,

When my ship comes o'er the sea!

"And within that cottage fine,

Blest as any king may be,

Every pleasure shall be mine,

When my ship comes o'er the sea!

"To be rich is to be great;

Love is only for the free;

Grant me patience, while I wait

Till my ship comes o'er the sea!"

Months and years have come and gone

Since the poet sang to me,

Yet he still keeps hoping on

For the ship from o'er the sea!

Thus the siren voice of Hope

Whispers still to you and me
Of something in the future's scope,
Some golden ship from o'er the sea!

Never sailor yet hath found,
Looking windward or to lee,
Any vessel homeward bound,
Like that ship from o'er the sea!

Never comes the shining deck;
But that tiny cloud may be,
Though it seems the merest speck,
The promised ship from o'er the sea!

Never looms the swelling sail,

But the wind is blowing free,

And that may be the precious gale

That brings the ship from o'er the sea!

THE HEAD AND THE HEART.

HE head is stately, calm, and wise,

THE

And bears a princely part;

And down below in secret lies
The warm, impulsive heart.

The lordly head that sits above,
The heart that beats below,
Their several office plainly prove,
Their true relation show.

The head erect, serene, and cool,
Endowed with Reason's art,
Was set aloft to guide and rule
The throbbing, wayward heart.

And from the head, as from the higher,
Comes every glorious thought;
And in the heart's transforming fire
All noble deeds are wrought.

Yet each is best when both unite
To make the man complete ;
What were the heat without the light?
The light, without the heat?

THE PROUD MISS MACBRIDE.

A LEGEND OF GOTHAM.

I.

O, TERRIBLY was

TERRIBLY proud was Miss MacBride,

As she minced along in Fashion's tide,

Adown Broadway,

on the proper side,

When the golden sun was setting;

There was pride in the head she carried so high, Pride in her lip, and pride in her eye,

And a world of pride in the very sigh

That her stately bosom was fretting;

II.

A sigh that a pair of elegant feet,

Sandalled in satin, should kiss the street, –

The very same that the vulgar greet
In common leather not over "neat,"

For such is the common booting;
(And Christian tears may well be shed,
That even among our gentlemen bred,
The glorious day of Morocco is dead,
And Day and Martin are raining instead,
On a much inferior footing!)

III.

O, terribly proud was Miss MacBride,
Proud of her beauty, and proud of her pride,
And proud of fifty matters beside

That would n't have borne dissection;
Proud of her wit, and proud of her walk,
Proud of her teeth, and proud of her talk,
Proud of "knowing cheese from chalk,"
On a very slight inspection!

IV.

Proud abroad, and proud at home,

Proud wherever she chanced to come,
When she was glad, and when she was glum;
Proud as the head of a Saracen

Over the door of a tippling shop!-
Proud as a duchess, proud as a fop,
"Proud as a boy with a bran-new top,"
Proud beyond comparison !

V.

It seems a singular thing to say,
But her very senses led her astray

Respecting all humility;