SeLECT Potry.

Otago Witness, Issue 685, 14 January 1865, Page 3

SeLECT Potry.

0, DON'T BECOME A NUN, MY DEAK. [On seeing a young lady at a fancy ball in the costume of a Sister of Charity.] I. 0 don't you become a nun, my dear, But leave your beauty free ;—; — Of vows pr'ythee make but one, my dear, And make that one to me ! Whenever you wish to ' confess,' my dear, Be this tender heart your shrine ; For you never will find, I guess, my dear, So loving a heart as mine ! ir. They tell me you want to become, my dear, A Sister of Charity; But before you set offfrom home, my dear, Let your mission begin with me ! Though the wounded limb may smart, ray dear, And the pulse be too wildly stirred, What are they to the wounded heart my dear, Or the sickness of hope deferred i in. Then, however, you incline to roam, my dear Don't forget that your charity , Should sometimes begin at home, my dear. So let it begin with me ! If Indulgences ever you need, my dear, j You have only how many to kiy, And if blessings your bliss can speed, my dear, You'll be happy by night and by day ! E'en the world with its cares and strifes, my dear, Is a school it is easy to see, And if vows you would make for your life, my dear, Pr'ythee make them at once to me ! The bliss for which oftenest I sigh, my dear ! Is to thine myjfate to tether, To live on, in one faith, till we die, my deary. And then travel to Heaven together. — London Society. HOPE. Come to the woods with me, love, Come where the sweet birds sing;. Come to the woods with me, love, And watch the wild flowers spring. What though our hearts be sorrowful, The care shall pass away : The darkest hour of night, love, Is that before the day. Why shouldst thou weep to see, love, That all bright things must lade ? Think how, when autumn's glorious tints Deck forth the forest glade, It is fairer than c'en in the joyous spring, Or the noon of the summer's day. Ah, wherefore should we weep, to think Youth's dreams must pass away ! And when dark winter's storms, love, Shall weep the forest bare, Ere the last leal can leave the stem, Fresh leaves are budding there : So, in the sorely stricken heart, Whilst cherished hopes decay, New hopes are springing forth in life,. Ere those have passed away. List to that mystic harp, love. The wild winds make their own; Still to the voice of the passing breeze It yields an answering tone : Hark ! as the wailing notes So sadly fall— to die ! The thrilling strings pour forth again Still sweeter harmony ! Come to the woods with me, love ; Come with a spirit light . Hear the rejoicing song of birds, Gaze on the waters bright. Let not your heart be sorrowful ; Drive grief and care away : Think how the darkest, longest night Is followed by the day !

An old gentleman who has been a keen observer of human nature says that the more women look in their glasses, the less they look to their houses. " What ! tipsy again ?"'said a wife to her husband. •' No, my dear/ said he, " not tipsy, but a little slippery. The fact is, st mebody has been, rubbing my boots till they are as smooth, as a pane of glass." When a late master of the Chapel Royal heard that a distinguished member of the musical profession had been knighted, he observed, " I suppose it is on the score of his merit, not on the merit of his score." "I wonder where these clouds are going?" sighed Flora, pensively, as she pointed with her delicate finger to the heavy masses that floated in the sky. " I think they are going to thunder," said her brother. " I'm to be hung," as one bell said to another. A thief, who lately broke open a grocer's warehouse, excused himself on the plea that he only ■went to take tea.