Volume 93 — THE LARKS AND THE ROSES.

The roses were blowing, like whales in the sea Where the apple-bloom icebergs plunged fearless and free, And the larks carolled madly their high jubilee In the ether. The daisies ran riot in sunshine and shade, And the call of the cuckoo was heard from the glade, Where Summer with mellow monotony play'd On her zither. Tempo di Valse. Ho, larks and roses! Hey, the bonny weather! Hey, we rose at morning prime; Ho, we lark'd together! 'Mid roses and larks in our shallop we glide By Inglesham poplars, on Teddington's tide, Where the water of Thame under Sinodun slide, And at Marlow, By Cliveden's green caverns, and Abingdon's walls, Where wirgles the Windrush, where Eynsham weir falls, By Sonning, or Sandford (whose lasher recalls Mr. Barlow). Con tenerezza. Oh, larks, and ro(w)ses On the shining river; Silver water-lilies, love; Love will last for ever! But the blooms turn'd to apples for urchins to munch, And the roses were sold at a penny a bunch, And the larks were served up for an Alderman's lunch, Dead and cold, love; And the lustre has faded from tresses and cheek, And the eyes do not sparkle, the eyes that I seek, And the temper is strong and the logic is weak Of my old love. Con tenerezza. Oh, larks, and ro(w)ses On the shining river; Silver water-lilies, love; Love will last for ever! But the blooms turn'd to apples for urchins to munch, And the roses were sold at a penny a bunch, And the larks were served up for an Alderman's lunch, Dead and cold, love; And the lustre has faded from tresses and cheek, And the eyes do not sparkle, the eyes that I seek, And the temper is strong and the logic is weak Of my old love.

No larks and roses In a winter gloaming; Ruby-red love's nose is; Chilblain time a-coming'.