As souls, ambitious, but low-born, If greatly raised by luck or wit, All pride of place will proudly scorn, And live as they'd been used to it, We talked, until the dusk grew late, As doubtful if a lot so sweet As our's was our's in very sooth, Like children, to promote conceit, We feigned that it was not the truth; And she assumed the maiden coy, And I adored remorseless charms, And then we clapped our hands for joy, And ran into each other's arms. THOMAS BAILEY 1836. ["The Ballad of Babie Bell." 1859.] PALABRAS CARIÑOSAS. GOOD night! I have to say good night The snowy hand detains me, then But there will come a time, my love, With my adieus. Till then, good night! You do not blush to wish it so? You would have blushed yourself to death What, both these snowy hands! ah, then که |