AN ECHO FROM A SEASIDE HOP.

Light as the waves foaming white on the bar, We dance to the mandolin, harp, and guitar; One, two, three, waltzing we glide round the room,— Would you were bride, and ah, would I were groom!

On all the seashore none fairer than you; What but adore you could any one do? Cheeks like the pink of an evening sky, Eyes that might bid a man laughingly die.

Ears like the shells from the Indian sea, Teeth like white buds on a young apple-tree, Throat like a lily bent heavy with dew, Arms just as white and as lily-like too.

Lips that would tempt—ah! you'll pardon me now, Being so near them suggests, you'll allow, That the happiest thing e'er a mortal could do, Would be to be ever thus waltzing with you.