I 
i (Status. 
I loved them then, I love them now— 
The gentle and the bright; 
I love them for the thoughts they bring 
Of spring’s returning light; 
When, first-born of the waking earth, 
Their kindred gay appear, 
And, with the Snowdrop, usher in 
The hope-invested year. 
Louisa A. Twamley 
You’re glad 
Because your little tiny nose, 
Turns up so pert and funny; 
Because I know you choose your beaus 
More for their mirth than money; 
Because your eyes are deep and blue,—• 
Your fingers long and rosy; 
Because a little maid like you 
Would make one’s home so cozy; 
Because, I think, (I’m just so weak,) 
That some of these fine morrows 
You’ll listen while you hear me speak 
My story, and my sorrows! 
Anon 
Gay hope is theirs, by fancy fed, 
Less pleasing when possest; 
The tear forgot as soon as shed, 
The sunshine of the breast; 
Theirs buxom health, of rosy hue; 
Wild wit, invention ever new, 
And lively cheer of vigour born; 
