. Ballads. e brought with , on its panes you 11 seeThe initials K and E. An old lantern brought to me ? Ugly, dingy, battered, black ! (Here a lady I suppose Turning up a pretty nose) — Pray, sir, take the old thing back. I ve no taste for bricabrac. Please to mark the letters twain —(I m supposed to speak again) — IIG MKS. KATIIKRINK S LAM KRN. Graven on the lantern i)ane,Can you tell me wlio was she,Mistress of the flowery wreath,And the anagram beneath —The mysterious K E ? ? Full a hundred years are goneSince the little beacon shoneFrom a Venice balcony :There, on summer nights, it
. Ballads. e brought with , on its panes you 11 seeThe initials K and E. An old lantern brought to me ? Ugly, dingy, battered, black ! (Here a lady I suppose Turning up a pretty nose) — Pray, sir, take the old thing back. I ve no taste for bricabrac. Please to mark the letters twain —(I m supposed to speak again) — IIG MKS. KATIIKRINK S LAM KRN. Graven on the lantern i)ane,Can you tell me wlio was she,Mistress of the flowery wreath,And the anagram beneath —The mysterious K E ? ? Full a hundred years are goneSince the little beacon shoneFrom a Venice balcony :There, on summer nights, it hung,And her lovers came and sungTo their beautiful K E. Hush ! in the canal belowDont you hear the plash of oarsUnderneath the lanterns a thrilling voice beginsTo the sound of mandolins ? —Begins singing of amoreAnd delire and dolore —O the ravishing tenore! ? Lady, do you know the tune ?Ah, we all of us have hummed it II ve an old guitar has thrummed it. .!:f!^V^;^?^:-|;ji;,i-^. 118 MRS. katiikuinks Under many a chanjfmg moon. Sluill I try it? Do RE MI * • What is this? Ma foi, the fact is Tliat my hand is out of practice, And my poor old fiddle cracked is, And a man — I let the truth out — Whos had almost every tooth out. Cannot sing as once he suug, When he was young as you are young, When he was young and lutes were strung, And love-lamps in the casement hung. AH, BLEAK AND BARREN WAS THE MOOR. 119 AH! BLEAK AND BARREN WAS THE MOOR. Ah ! bleak and barren was the moor. Ah I loud and piercing was the cottage i-oof was shelterd sure, The cottage hearth was bright and warm-An orphan-boy tlie lattice passd. And, as he markd its cheerful doubly keen the midnight blast. And doubly cold the fallen snow. They marked him as he onward pressd. With fainting heart and weary limb;Kind voices bade him turn and rest. And gentle faces welcomed dawn is up, — the guest is gone. The cottage hearth is blazing still:Heaven pity
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, bookpublisherbosto, bookyear1881
