“Martiis cælebs quid agam Kalendis,
——— miraris?”
—Horace iii. 8.    

CHARLES,—for it seems you wish to know,—
You wonder what could scare me so,
And why, in this long-locked bureau,
      With trembling fingers,—
With tragic air, I now...

For E. W. W.
ONE pale November day
  Flying Summer paused,
          They say:
  And growing bolder,
  O’er rosy shoulder
Threw her lover such a glance
That Autumn’s heart began to dance.
          (O happy lover!)

A...