"Blow high, blow low." - SEA SONG. As Mister B. and Mistress B. One night were sitting down to tea,
I will not have the mad Clytie, Whose head is turned by the sun; The tulip is a courtly queen,
It's a shame, so it is, - men can't Let alone Jobs as is Woman's right to do - and go about there Own - Theirs Reforms enuff Alreddy without your new schools
"Who'll serve the King?" What little urchin is there never Hath had that early scarlet fever,
Farewell, Life! My senses swim, And the world is growing dim; Thronging shadows cloud the light,
My pipe is lit, my grog is mix'd, My curtains drawn and all is snug; Old Puss is in her elbow-chair,
What's life but full of care and doubt With all its fine humanities, With parasols we walk about,
The dead are in their silent graves, And the dew is cold above, And the living weep and sigh,
The lady lay in her bed, Her couch so warm and soft, But her sleep was restless and broken still;
Alas, the moon should ever beam To show what man should never see! - I saw a maiden on a stream,
One widow at a grave will sob A little while, and weep, and sigh! If two should meet on such a job,
Lady, wouldst thou heiress be To Winters cold and cruel part? When he sets the rivers free,