Only Roses!

To a garden full of posies Cometh one to gather flowers, And he wanders through its bowers Toying with the wanton roses, Who, uprising from their beds, Hold on high their shameless heads With their pretty lips a-pouting, Never doubting--never doubting That for Cytherean posies He would gather aught but roses!

In a nest of weeds and nettles, Lay a violet, half hidden, Hoping that his glance unbidden Yet might fall upon her petals, Though she lived alone, apart, Hope lay nestling at her heart, But, alas! the cruel awaking Set her little heart a-breaking, For he gathered for his posies Only roses--only roses!

THEY'LL NONE OF 'EM BE MISSED.

As some day it may happen that a victim must be found, I've got a little list--I've got a little list Of social offenders who might well be underground, And who never would be missed--who never would be missed! There's the pestilential nuisances who write for autographs-- All people who have flabby hands and irritating laughs-- All children who are up in dates, and floor you with 'em flat-- All persons who in shaking hands, shake hands with you like that-- And all third persons who on spoiling tete-a-tetes insist-- They'd none of 'em be missed--they'd none of 'em be missed!

There's the nigger serenader, and the others of his race, And the piano organist--I've got him on the list! And the people who eat peppermint and puff it in your face, They never would be missed--they never would be missed! Then the idiot who praises, with enthusiastic tone, All centuries but this, and every country but his own; And the lady from the provinces, who dresses like a guy, And who doesn't think she waltzes, but would rather like to try; And that singular anomaly, the lady novelist-- I don't think she'd be missed--I'm sure she'd not be missed!

And that Nisi Prius nuisance, who just now is rather rife, The Judicial humorist--I've got him on the list! All funny fellows, comic men, and clowns of private life-- They'd none of 'em be missed--they'd none of them be missed. And apologetic statesmen of the compromising kind, Such as--What-d'ye-call-him--Thing'em-Bob, and likewise--Never-mind, And 'St--'st--'st--and What's-his-name, and also--You-know-who-- (The task of filling up the blanks I'd rather leave to you!) But it really doesn't matter whom you put upon the list, For they'd none of 'em be missed--they'd none of 'em be missed!

THE POLICEMAN'S LOT.

When a felon's not engaged in his employment Or maturing his felonious little plans. His capacity for innocent enjoyment, Is just as great as any honest man's Our feelings we with difficulty smother When constabulary duty's to be done: Ah, take one consideration with another, A policeman's lot is not a happy one!

When the enterprising burglar isn't burgling, When the cut-throat isn't occupied in crime, He loves to hear the little brook a-gurgling, And listen to the merry village chime. When the coster's finished jumping on his mother, He loves to lie a-basking in the sun: Ah, take one consideration with another, The policeman's lot is not a happy one!

AN APPEAL.

Oh, is there not one maiden breast Which does not feel the moral beauty Of making worldly interest Subordinate to sense of duly? Who would not give up willingly All matrimonial ambition, To rescue such a one as I From his unfortunate position?

Oh, is there not one maiden here, Whose homely face and bad complexion Have caused all hopes to disappear Of ever winning man's affection? To such a one, if such there be, I swear by Heaven's arch above you, If you will cast your eyes on me,-- However plain you be--I'll love you!