Honour is his merit,'Gainst each in-- and outward foe
Quick, make up thy mind,
For all that's there displayd.
The stars their blessings pourOn feelings never-dying;
Skipp'd a kitten on the floor above me,Scratch'd a mouse a panel in the corner,Was there in the house the slightest motion,Ever hoped I that I heard thy footstep,Ever thought I that I heard thee coming.And so lay I long, and ever longer,And already was the daylight dawning,And both here and there were signs of movement.
Believe me, with great truth,Very faithfully yours,EDGAR A. BOWRING.London, April, 1853.
A flower stand thereAs stars it glisten'd,
And how Amor, at length, brought forth blossom and fruitThink of the manifold ways wherein Nature hath lent to our feelings,
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