Time has a magic wand!
What is this meets my hand,
Moth-eaten, mouldy, and
Covered with fluff,
Faded and stiff and scant?
Can it be? no, it can’t,—
Yes,—I declare ’t is Aunt
Prudence’s Muff!
Years ago—twenty-three!...
Frederick Locker-Lampson
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[Published in a volume by several authors for the benefit of the starving weavers of Lancashire during the American civil war.]
THE WORLD! Was jester ever in
A viler than the present?
Yet if it ugly be—as sin,
It almost is—as pleasant!
It is a merry... -
A WIDOW—she had only one!
A puny and decrepit son;
But, day and night,
Though fretful oft, and weak and small,
A loving child, he was her all—
The Widow’s Mite.The Widow’s Mite—ay, so sustained,
She battled onward, nor complained,... -
Suggested by a Picture by Mr. Romney
THIS relative of mine,
Was she seventy-and-nine
When she died?
By the canvas may be seen
How she looked at seventeen,
As a bride.Beneath a summer tree,
Her maiden reverie
Has a...