Le masque des muses . ugle notes de troupeaux mugissant  ; et laissez-moi le wineDrawn quaff mousseux moussant de la généreuse kine.Je ne voudrais pas perdre ma vie à la nuit,la couronne, en dérobant jour.Pour tout l'or et tous les monarques et leurs diadèmes gemsOf.Une fille de la campagne Im fier d'être  ; Le pays est la maison pour moi ! La ville de sons et de chansons nous rel flottante.Dans une profonde et qui ne finessent chorus;le maelström humain ne dort jamais,mais hauts et des océans comme deeps.La nuit de plaisir somnole onTill surpris par le rising dawn;ses feux maladive fade un par un,comme les étoiles s'éteindre avant que le soleil.Lone Riot tr

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The masque of the muses . ugle notes of lowing herds ;And let me quaff the sparkling wineDrawn foaming from the generous kine.I would not waste my life away, To crown the night, by robbing day.For all the gold and all the gemsOf monarchs and their diadems.A country girl Im proud to be ;The country is the home for me ! The city sounds and songs float oer us.In deep and never ending chorus;The human maelstrom never sleeps, But ebbs and flows as oceans deeps.The night of pleasure drowses onTill startled by the rising dawn;Its sickly lights fade one by one, As stars go out before the sun.Lone Riot sinks, and hears its knellIn hucksters horn and milkmans bell —The echoes of those voices warmWhich float in from the far-off farm.How little do ye know who sleepOf vigils that the lowly keep. i8S THE MASQUE OF THE MUSES. Who rise betimes each working dayTo drive starvations wolf away.Ye view existence through the hazeThat curtains all your yesterdays ;Ye shine with nights reflected beams, And languish in a land of dreams.. SALLIE BROWN, ^?^v^E live at home — plain, homely folks -Ji 4 / i| And let the world run riot.±MnLM Our family jars oerflow with jokes —Our quarrels een are quiet. We have an infant band of three, All innocent and sweet;Who chatter all in harmony With little pattering feet. This stream of twilight music fills Our measure of desire, When pouring forth its artless trills Around the evening fire. Weve trouble, too, oer which we muse, But do not tell the town ;Our kitchen teems with broils and stews — Dished up by Sallie Brown. Without more preface to begin ; — Who may be Sallie Brown ?A servant girl, we took her in, And soon she took us down. 190 THE MASQUE OF THE MUSES. She entered by the alley gate One night at nine or later ;We did not find until too late Wed caught an alligator, Twas winter time, and bitter cold; We hired her as we thought;We felt so cheap when we were sold And she so dearly bought. She did not suit — we missed some spoons, And

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