一、花的名字这就是她挽着我的胳膊走过的花园，就在不久之前。瞧，现在我推它的门，青苔挡住了铰链，把它弄皱了!她一定是走到这丛灌木跟前才转身的，因为木门随着那低低的声音荡了回去;因为她把那只可怜的蜗牛，我偶然的一只脚，放在树叶中间，喂它，然后把它忘掉。2她走在碎石小道的这一边，绳子的边缘拂过箱子。这时，她停止了亲切的谈话，指给我看那乳白色夹竹桃上的一只飞蛾。玫瑰，勇敢地排成一排，我永远不会想到她从你身边走过!她爱你高贵的玫瑰，我知道;可是，你看，那边长满了岩石植物!3她把手指放在唇边，停在这朵花前，疑惑地弯下腰，想要确定它的归属; Till she gave me, with pride to make no slip, Its soft meandering Spanish name: What a name! Was it love or praise? Speech half-asleep or song half-awake? I must learn Spanish, one of these days, Only for that slow sweet name's sake. IV. Roses, if I live and do well, I may bring her, one of these days, To fix you fast with as fine a spell, Fit you each with his Spanish phrase; But do not detain me now; for she lingers There, like sunshine over the ground, And ever I see her soft white fingers Searching after the bud she found. V. Flower, you Spaniard, look that you grow not, Stay as you are and be loved for ever! Bud, if I kiss you 'tis that you blow not: Mind, the shut pink mouth opens never! For while it pouts, her fingers wrestle, Twinkling the audacious leaves between, Till round they turn and down they nestle--- Is not the dear mark still to be seen? VI. Where I find her not, beauties vanish; Whither I follow ber, beauties flee; Is there no method to tell her in Spanish June's twice June since she breathed it with me? Come, bud, show me the least of her traces, Treasure my lady's lightest footfall! ---Ah, you may flout and turn up your faces--- Roses, you are not so fair after all! II. SIBRANDUS SCHAFNABURGENSIS. Plague take all your pedants, say I! He who wrote what I hold in my hand, Centuries back was so good as to die, Leaving this rubbish to cumber the land; This, that was a book in its time, Printed on paper and bound in leather, Last month in the white of a matin-prime Just when the birds sang all together. II. Into the garden I brought it to read, And under the arbute and laurustine Read it, so help me grace in my need, From title-page to closing line. Chapter on chapter did I count, As a curious traveller counts Stonehenge; Added up the mortal amount; And then proceeded to my revenge. III. Yonder's a plum-tree with a crevice An owl would build in, were he but sage; For a lap of moss, like a fine pont-levis In a castle of the Middle Age, Joins to a lip of gum, pure amber; When he'd be private, there might he spend Hours alone in his lady's chamber: Into this crevice I dropped our friend. IV. Splash, went he, as under he ducked, ---At the bottom, I knew, rain-drippings stagnate: Next, a handful of blossoms I plucked To bury him with, my bookshelf's magnate; Then I went in-doors, brought out a loaf, Half a cheese, and a bottle of Chablis; Lay on the grass and forgot the oaf Over a jolly chapter of Rabelais. V. Now, this morning, betwixt the moss And gum that locked our friend in limbo, A spider had spun his web across, And sat in the midst with arms akimbo: So, I took pity, for learning's sake, And, _de profundis, accentibus ltis, Cantate!_ quoth I, as I got a rake; And up I fished his delectable treatise. VI. Here you have it, dry in the sun, With all the binding all of a blister, And great blue spots where the ink has run, And reddish streaks that wink and glister O'er the page so beautifully yellow: Oh, well have the droppings played their tricks! Did he guess how toadstools grow, this fellow? Here's one stuck in his chapter six! VII. How did he like it when the live creatures Tickled and toused and browsed him all over, And worm, slug, eft, with serious features, Came in, each one, for his right of trover? ---When the water-beetle with great blind deaf face Made of her eggs the stately deposit, And the newt borrowed just so much of the preface As tiled in the top of his black wife's closet? VIII. All that life and fun and romping, All that frisking and twisting and coupling, While slowly our poor friend's leaves were swamping And clasps were cracking and covers suppling! As if you bad carri