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ODE TO AN ALBUM. 



O Register of lover's sighs! 



Journal of tear-filled eyes 



Side-winded Maker 



Of declarations Taker 



Of hints conveyed in sonnets 



Patterns of modish bonnets 



And " clever " things ; from folks who have not much care. 



O olla podrida ! O literary Dutch fair I 



Picture of innocence, or rather those who ape her, 



Edging of gilt ; but surface of white paper, 



Well-freighted vessel, outward bound 



In calf, with songs for Ply-mouth Sound ! 



In fine, O universal showman ! 



Of character, both grave and merry, 

 Thou'rt very like a Woman 



Very! 



Are not thy many-tinted pages 



Types of her eras, years, and stages ? 



Behold the girl, unmarked by grief, 



Unsullied by thy whitest leaf. 



Then, having finished her scholastic labours, 



Regard her from her continental neighbours, 



Borrowing an azure tint, though very slight 



Just strong enough to be like your French white. 



At length, with scrawling lines in you 



She straight becomes a deep-dyed "blue," 



Next to the " grande passion " she glows, 



And sees all things " couleur de rose ;" 



Mankind is seen through Love's "pink specs ;" 



Until the ring her finger decks : 



Then, enter Jealousy's green eyes, 



Which, mixing with her blue propensities, 



Imparts a dash of brimstone This makes my sum 



Of similes for thou my friend art dumb ! 



O " trivial, fond, record " of bagatelles ! 

 O cornucopia of charading belles ! 

 Measure done up in quarto, fare thee well ! 

 Flirt, till you make with inky tears each pen full ; 

 Coquette with every brush, with every pencil ; 

 Copy the sex, my parallel obey : 

 Receive afresh impression, every day : 

 Rove like the bee, collect each mental sweet, 

 And bring the treasure to thy mistress' feet. 



W. W. W, 



