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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 61 pages of information about John Marr and Other Poems.

PIPE SONG

Care is all stuff:—­
      Puff!  Puff! 
To puff is enough:—­
      Puff!  Puff
More musky than snuff,
And warm is a puff:—­
      Puff!  Puff
Here we sit mid our puffs,
Like old lords in their ruffs,
Snug as bears in their muffs:—­
      Puff!  Puff
Then puff, puff, puff,
For care is all stuff,
Puffed off in a puff—­
      Puff!  Puff!

SONG OF YOOMY

Departed the pride, and the glory of Mardi: 
The vaunt of her isles sleeps deep in the sea,
  That rolls o’er his corse with a hush,
  His warriors bend over their spears,
  His sisters gaze upward and mourn. 
    Weep, weep, for Adondo is dead! 
  The sun has gone down in a shower;
  Buried in clouds the face of the moon;
Tears stand in the eyes of the starry skies,
  And stand in the eyes of the flowers;
And streams of tears are the trickling brooks,
    Coursing adown the mountains.—­
  Departed the pride, and the glory of Mardi: 
  The vaunt of her isles sleeps deep in the sea. 
Fast falls the small rain on its bosom that
    sobs,—­
  Not showers of rain, but the tears of Oro.

GOLD

We rovers bold,
  To the land of Gold,
Over the bowling billows are gliding: 
  Eager to toil,
  For the golden spoil,
And every hardship biding. 
  See!  See! 
Before our prows’ resistless dashes
The gold-fish fly in golden flashes! 
  ’Neath a sun of gold,
  We rovers bold,
On the golden land are gaining;
  And every night,
  We steer aright,
By golden stars unwaning! 
All fires burn a golden glare: 
No locks so bright as golden hair! 
  All orange groves have golden gushings;
  All mornings dawn with golden flushings! 
In a shower of gold, say fables old,
A maiden was won by the god of gold! 
  In golden goblets wine is beaming: 
  On golden couches kings are dreaming! 
  The Golden Rule dries many tears! 
  The Golden Number rules the spheres! 
Gold, gold it is, that sways the nations: 
Gold! gold! the center of all rotations! 
  On golden axles worlds are turning: 
  With phosphorescence seas are burning! 
  All fire-flies flame with golden gleamings! 
  Gold-hunters’ hearts with golden dreamings! 
  With golden arrows kings are slain: 
  With gold we’ll buy a freeman’s name! 
In toilsome trades, for scanty earnings,
At home we’ve slaved, with stifled yearnings: 
No light! no hope!  Oh, heavy woe! 
When nights fled fast, and days dragged slow. 
    But joyful now, with eager eye,
    Fast to the Promised Land we fly: 
      Where in deep mines,
      The treasure shines;
    Or down in beds of golden streams,
    The gold-flakes glance in

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