IN THE HOUSE OF IDIEDAILY.

 Oh, but life went gayly, gayly, In the house of Idiedaily! There were always throats to sing Down the river-banks with spring, When the stir of heart's desire Set the sapling's heart on fire. Bobolincolns in the meadows, Leisure in the purple shadows, Till the poppies without number Bowed their heads in crimson slumber, And the twilight came to cover Every unreluctant lover. Not a night but some brown maiden Bettered all the dusk she strayed in, While the roses in her hair Bankrupted oblivion there. Oh, but life went gayly, gayly, In the house of Idiedaily! But this hostelry, The Barrow, With its chambers, bare and narrow, Mean, ill-windowed, damp, and wormy, Where the silence makes you squirmy, And the guests are never seen to, Is a vile place, a mere lean-to, Not a traveller speaks well of, Even worse than I heard tell of, Mouldy, ramshackle, and foul. What a dwelling for a soul! Oh, but life went gayly, gayly, In the house of Idiedaily! There the hearth was always warm, From the slander of the storm. There your comrade was your neighbor, Living on to-morrow's labor. And the board was always steaming, Though Sir Ringlets might be dreaming. Not a plate but scoffed at porridge, Not a cup but floated borage. There were always jugs of sherry Waiting for the makers merry, And the dark Burgundian wine That would make a fool divine. Oh, but life went gayly, gayly In the house of Idiedaily! 

RESIGNATION.

 When I am only fit to go to bed, Or hobble out to sit within the sun, Ring down the curtain, say the play is done, And the last petals of the poppy shed! I do not want to live when I am old, I have no use for things I cannot love; And when the day that I am talking of (Which God forfend!) is come, it will be cold. But if there is another place than this, Where all the men will greet me as "Old Man," And all the women wrap me in a smile, Where money is more useless than a kiss, And good wine is not put beneath the ban, I will go there and stay a little while. 

COMRADES.

 Comrades, pour the wine to-night For the parting is with dawn! Oh, the clink of cups together, With the daylight coming on! Greet the morn With a double horn, When strong men drink together! Comrades, gird your swords to-night, For the battle is with dawn! Oh, the clash of shields together, With the triumph coming on! Greet the foe, And lay him low, When strong men fight together! Comrades, watch the tides to-night, For the sailing is with dawn! Oh, to face the spray together, With the tempest coming 

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