KENYON'S LEGACY. GOOD Johnny Kenyon's gone and done The best thing with his money: He's left it for two Poet-Bees, Who make the wasp-world honey. Unthrifty work, a world has wants, A market-man provides it; Small wages has the working bee, Or the good God who guides it. But Kenyon knew the market-men, That our two rifled Bees might live From henceforth on their honey. In Casa Guidi, where they dwell, I know a Western dame who keeps The villa styled Negroni, And whose well-regulated cups Are hot to friend and crony. She says our poets enter like A church who brings his steeple ; With visions of the gods they praise, They yawn at common people. When they in turn invite at home, The chairs are queer and rotten, The board is bare, the talk divine, The tea-pot long forgotten. John Kenyon was an Englishman, And understood the duty England expects from English wives, Who stand for thrift and beauty. He did not score it in his will, For that had been ungracious; He told it not by word of mouth, ""Tis in the fitness of the thing, And they, be sure, will feel it; Or else some medial-rapping friend For sixpence may reveal it. Aurora dry your pen at night; Repose shall help your dreaming; Enjoy your victuals from this hour, And keep your tea-pot steaming." KENYON'S LEGACY. Like those long-exiled Empire-bees, So may you, gold-emblazoned, rest Or where luxurious drapings hide Or better, build a crystal hive, With this remembrance sunny : "One good man helps the bankrupt world To pay our priceless honey." 10 OEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE. TO ONE WHO LIES IN FLORENCE. SHOWER lilies from the skies Where our lovely Ladye lies! Birds of more than mortal tune, Soothe her rest by night and noon; Angel loves be softly told O'er her consecrated mould; Hearts that noblest strive and mean At her shrine their comforts glean. Neither may the sun despise |