'Tis April 13, as you know,

A day and month devote to Venus, Whereon was born, some years ago,

My very worthy friend Mæcenas.

Nay, pay no heed to Telephus,

Your friends agree he does n't love you; way he flirts convinces us

The

He really is not worthy of you!

Aurora's son, unhappy lad!

You know the fate that overtook him?

And Pegasus a rider had

-

I say he had before he shook him!

Hæc docet (as you must agree):

'T is meet that Phyllis should discover

A wisdom in preferring me

And mittening every other lover.

So come, O Phyllis, last and best

Of loves with which this heart's been smitten, –

Come, sing my jealous fears to rest,

And let your songs be those I've written.

CHRYSTMASSE OF OLDE.

GOD rest you, Chrysten gentil men,

Wherever you may be,

God rest you all in fielde or hall,

Or on ye stormy sea;

For on this morn oure Chryst is born That saveth you and me.

Last night ye shepherds in ye east
Saw many a wondrous thing;
Ye sky last night flamed passing bright
Whiles that ye stars did sing,
And angels came to bless ye name
Of Jesus Chryst, oure Kyng.

God rest you, Chrysten gentil men,
Faring where'er you may;

In noblesse court do thou no sport,
In tournament no playe,

In paynim lands hold thou thy hands
From bloudy works this daye.

But thinking on ye gentil Lord

That died upon ye tree,

Let troublings cease and deeds of peace Abound in Chrystantie;

For on this morn ye Chryst is born

That saveth you and me.

I

AT THE DOOR.

THOUGHT myself indeed secure,

So fast the door, so firm the lock; But, lo! he toddling comes to lure My parent ear with timorous knock.

My heart were stone could it withstand

The sweetness of my baby's plea, · That timorous, baby knocking and

"Please let me in,- it's only me."

I threw aside the unfinished book,
Regardless of its tempting charms,
And opening wide the door, I took
My laughing darling in my arms.

Who knows but in Eternity,

I, like a truant child, shall wait The glories of a life to be,

Beyond the Heavenly Father's gate?

And will that Heavenly Father heed
The truant's supplicating cry,
As at the outer door I plead,
"'Tis I, O Father! only I?"

1886.