The Lazy Minstrel. Ashby-Sterry Joseph

weary dull week, as it rolls on apace,

      I'm haunted by thoughts of that tender young face;

      And oft, O how oft, does the vision arise —

      The pureness and truth of those eloquent eyes!

      And I long for the hour, and I count on the day,

      When I sit at a distance and worship Saint May!

      No doubt you'll be vastly surprised when you're told

      Her name, in the Calendar, ne'er was enrolled —

      They prattled of "May," the sweet sisterly pair,

      I added the "Saint," – she was canonized there!

      Ah! if saints might wed sinners, I'd yield to her sway,

      And I straightway would fall on my knees to Saint May!

      A CANOE CANZONET

      The leaves scarce rustled in the trees,

      And faintly blew the summer breeze;

      A damsel drifted slowly down,

      Aboard her ship to Henley town;

      And as the white sail passed along,

      A punted Poet sang this song!

      IN your canoe, love, when you are going,

      With white sail flowing, and merry song;

      In your canoe, love, with ripples gleaming

      And sunshine beaming, you drift along!

      While you are dreaming, or idly singing,

      Your sweet voice ringing, when skies are blue:

      In summer days, love, on water-ways, love,

      You like to laze, love, – in your canoe!

      In your canoe, love, I'd be a tripper,

      If you were skipper and I were mate;

      In your canoe, love, where sedges shiver

      And willows quiver, we'd navigate!

      Upon the River, you'd ne'er be lonely,

      For, if you only had room for two,

      I'd pass my leisure with greatest pleasure

      With you, my treasure, – in your canoe!

      In your canoe, love, when breezes sigh light,

      In tender twilight, we'd drift away;

      In your canoe, love, light as a feather,

      Were we together – what should I say?

      In sunny weather, were Fates propitious,

      A tale delicious I'd tell to you!

      In quiet spots, love, forget-me-nots, love,

      We'd gather lots, love, – in your canoe!

Bolney Backwater, July.

      A LOVER'S LULLABY

      MIRROR your sweet eyes in mine, love,

      See how they glitter and shine!

      Quick fly such moments divine, love,

      Link your lithe fingers in mine!

      Lay your soft cheek against mine, love,

      Pillow your head on my breast;

      While your brown locks I entwine, love,

      Pout your red lips when they're prest!

      Mirror your fate, then, in mine, love;

      Sorrow and sighing resign:

      Life is too short to repine, love,

      Link your fair future in mine!

      THE TAM O' SHANTER CAP

      Upon the Spa at Scarborough, the Minstrel was a panter —

      He asked a Wilful Maiden why she wore a Tam o' Shanter?

      She gazed upon his furrowed face, half doubting if he chaffed her,

      Then, noting well his solemn mien, she answered thus, with laughter —

      LET others wear, upon the Spa,

      The "Rubens" hat or bonnet;

      The "Gainsborough," the Tuscan straw,

      With marguerites upon it —

      The "Pamela," of quaint design,

      The "Zulu," or the "Planter" —

      But as for me, I much incline

      To wear my Tam o' Shanter!

      Let others sport the fluffy hat,

      The "Sailor Boy," or "Granny;"

      The "Bargee," or some other that

      Is anything but canny.

      If petticoats be short or long,

      Or fuller be or scanter,

      Or if you think it right or wrong —

      I'll wear my Tam o' Shanter!

      I'll wear it if it's hot or cold,

      Let weather what it may be!

      Will this Child do "what she is told"?

      Or is she quite a baby?

      I do not care for my Mama,

      Or Cousin Charlie's banter;

      Despite the chaff of dear Papa,

      I'll wear my Tam o' Shanter!

      You ask me if I'll tell you why

      I cannot do without it?

      Because it keeps me cool and dry —

      You seem inclined to doubt it?

      The reason why? There, pray don't tease!

      I'll tell you that instanter.

      The reason is —Because I please

      To wear my Tam o' Shanter!

      A STREET SKETCH

      UPON the Kerb, a maiden neat —

      Her hazel eyes are passing sweet —

      There stands and waits in dire distress:

      The muddy road is pitiless,

      And 'busses thunder down the street!

      A snowy skirt, all frill and pleat;

      Two tiny, well-shod, dainty feet

      Peep out, beneath her kilted dress,

      Upon the Kerb!

      She'll first advance and then retreat,

      Half frightened by a hansom fleet.

      She looks around, I must confess,

      With marvellous coquettishness! —

      Then droops her eyes and looks discreet,

      Upon the Kerb!

      A TINY TRIP

THE BILL OF LADING

      SHE was cargo and crew,

      She was boatswain and skipper,

      She was passenger too,

      Of the Nutshell canoe;

      And the eyes were so blue

      Of this sweet tiny tripper!

      She was cargo and crew,

      She was boatswain and skipper!

THE PILOT

      How I bawled, "Ship,