And the sun you follow here Rises in my hemisphere.

Really,--if one must be rude,--Length, my friend, ain't longitude."

Said the Union: "Don't reflect, or I'll run over some Director."

Said the Central: "I'm Pacific;

But, when riled, I'm quite terrific.

Yet to-day we shall not quarrel, Just to show these folks this moral, How two Engines--in their vision--Once have met without collision."

That is what the Engines said, Unreported and unread;

Spoken slightly through the nose, With a whistle at the close.

THE LEGENDS OF THE RHINE

Beetling walls with ivy grown, Frowning heights of mossy stone;

Turret, with its flaunting flag Flung from battlemented crag;

Dungeon-keep and fortalice Looking down a precipice O'er the darkly glancing wave By the Lurline-haunted cave;

Robber haunt and maiden bower, Home of Love and Crime and Power,--That's the scenery, in fine, Of the Legends of the Rhine.

One bold baron, double-dyed Bigamist and parricide, And, as most the stories run, Partner of the Evil One;

Injured innocence in white, Fair but idiotic quite, Wringing of her lily hands;

Valor fresh from Paynim lands, Abbot ruddy, hermit pale, Minstrel fraught with many a tale,--Are the actors that combine In the Legends of the Rhine.

Bell-mouthed flagons round a board;

Suits of armor, shield, and sword;

Kerchief with its bloody stain;

Ghosts of the untimely slain;

Thunder-clap and clanking chain;

Headsman's block and shining axe;

Thumb-screw, crucifixes, racks;

Midnight-tolling chapel bell, Heard across the gloomy fell,--These and other pleasant facts Are the properties that shine In the Legends of the Rhine.

Maledictions, whispered vows Underneath the linden boughs;

Murder, bigamy, and theft;

Travelers of goods bereft;

Rapine, pillage, arson, spoil,--Everything but honest toil, Are the deeds that best define Every Legend of the Rhine.

That Virtue always meets reward, But quicker when it wears a sword;

That Providence has special care Of gallant knight and lady fair;

That villains, as a thing of course, Are always haunted by remorse,--Is the moral, I opine, Of the Legends of the Rhine.

SONGS WITHOUT SENSE FOR THE PARLOR AND PIANO

I. THE PERSONIFIED SENTIMENTAL

Affection's charm no longer gilds The idol of the shrine;

But cold Oblivion seeks to fill Regret's ambrosial wine.

Though Friendship's offering buried lies 'Neath cold Aversion's snow, Regard and Faith will ever bloom Perpetually below.

I see thee whirl in marble halls, In Pleasure's giddy train;

Remorse is never on that brow, Nor Sorrow's mark of pain.

Deceit has marked thee for her own;

Inconstancy the same;

And Ruin wildly sheds its gleam Athwart thy path of shame.

II. THE HOMELY PATHETIC

The dews are heavy on my brow;

My breath comes hard and low;

Yet, mother dear, grant one request, Before your boy must go.

Oh! lift me ere my spirit sinks, And ere my senses fail, Place me once more, O mother dear, Astride the old fence-rail.

The old fence-rail, the old fence-rail!

How oft these youthful legs, With Alice' and Ben Bolt's, were hung Across those wooden pegs!

'Twas there the nauseating smoke Of my first pipe arose:

O mother dear, these agonies Are far less keen than those.

I know where lies the hazel dell, Where simple Nellie sleeps;

I know the cot of Nettie Moore, And where the willow weeps.

I know the brookside and the mill, But all their pathos fails Beside the days when once I sat Astride the old fence-rails.

III. SWISS AIR

I'm a gay tra, la, la, With my fal, lal, la, la, And my bright--And my light--Tra, la, le. [Repeat.]

Then laugh, ha, ha, ha, And ring, ting, ling, ling, And sing fal, la, la, La, la, le. [Repeat.]