Chapter M: E. H. Everett

_Madisonensis_.

~With My Cigar.~

With my cigar I sit alone, Alone in twilight's undertone, With wav'ring shadows growing deep, While long-forgotten faces peep Midst curling mists of smoke, now blown Into a frame that doth enthrone A face that from my heart hath grown. Sweet mem'ries o'er my being creep, With my cigar.

Those hazel eyes on me have shone,
Those roguish lips have pressed my own,
And this the harvest that I reap!
And this the sweetness that I keep,
To wake, to find the vision flown
With my cigar!

JOHN CLINTON ANTHONY. _Brunonian_.

~To Waltz with Thee.~

To waltz with thee, my pretty belle, To silver music's magic spell, Was such a strange unmixed delight That I had wished the merry night Into eternity might swell.

* * * *

Terpsichore ne'er danced so well!
Can all the Graces in thee dwell?
My soul was raised to such a height
To waltz with thee.

Enchanting strains now rose, now fell,
Thy charms what raptures would compel!
Thy feet were winged, thy figure slight,
Thy winning tread, entrancing, light,--
What bliss to me that night befell,
To waltz with thee!

GEORGE B. ZUG. _Amherst Literary Monthly._

~To Maude's Guitar.~

Sweet guitar, so old thou art
Thou seemest strange to modern eyes,
Yet in thy broad-backed cavern-heart
The softest music hidden lies.

Whene'er thy strings with gentle hand
I lightly sweep in deep-bassed chords,
There comes a breath of foreign lands
That seems to sing soft Spanish words.

Was Caballero's passion deep
E'er sung to thy rich-chorded bass?
Didst ever break señora's sleep
By music 'neath her window-case?

Somewhere--sometime, a song was sung
By lover bold or maiden fair,
So sweet, thou hid'st it deep among
Thy soulful strings, and kept it there.

Whoe'er it was, that distant day,
That loved to strike thy mellow strings,
Whoever sang that sweet love-lay,
Its echo still within thee rings.

Though Maude may vow she loves me not,
And jolly glees may lightly play,
I look beyond the surface thought,
And hear that echoing old love-lay.