The Free Lance.
Oh do not harshly judge the heart,
Though cold and vain it seems to be,
Nor rudely seek the vail to part,
That hides its deep, deep mystery.
MY LOVE
When summer breezes softly go
In aimless travel to and fro,
Aud summer heat invites repose,
My love is like the pale white rose,
But when the blasts of winter blow
Against her face the chilling snow
And Jack Frost bites her pretty nose,
My love is like the red, red rose.
Geographically Considered
My love is bounded on the North
By lovely chestnut hair,
Which serves to lend an added charm
Unto her face so fair.
My love is bounded on the South
By dainty little feet.
On East and West by pretty arms
And hands so white and sweet.
But then, to tell the honest truth—
(And surely there is no harm)
Sometimes the East and West of her
Are bounded by my arm.
ANOTHER LOST CHORD
der a window a freshman sung;
" Oh Love, I will love you ever;
you'll open your lattice and list to my song,
1 sing to you darling the whole evening long.
And part from you, dear, I will never,"
e lattice opened as he had wished;
1, where is the freshman, is he dished ?
to the darkness the freshman sprang
nd swiftly the premises fled,
r the strings of his instrument broke with twang
hen the water bowl fell on his head.
[ FEBRUARY,