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j|OD bless the man who first invented sleep!" So Sancho Fanza said, and so say I; And bless him, also, that he didn't + keep
,j His great discovery to himself,
nor try To make it—as the lucky fellow might— A close monopoly by patent-right!
Yes,—bless the man who first invented sleep,
(I really can't avoid the iteration ;) But blast the man with curses loud and deep, Whate'er the rascal's name or age or Btation, Who first invented, and went round advising, That artificial cut-off,—Early Rising!
"Rise with the lark, and with the lark to bed," Observes eome solemn, sentimental owl; Maxims like these are very cheaply said;
But, ere you inako yourself a fool or fowl, Pray just inquire about his rise and fall, And whether larks have any beds at all!
"The time for honest folks to be abed Is in the morning, if I reason right;
And he who cannot keep his precious head Upon his pillow till it's fairly light,
And so enjoy his forty morning winks,
Is up to knavery, or else—he drinks!
Thomson, who sung about the "Seasons,"
At ten o'clock, A. M.,—the very reason
'Tis doubtless, well to be sometimes awake,—
Awake to duty, and awake to truth,— But when, alas! a nice review we take Of our best deeds and days, we find, in sooth, The hours that leave the slightest cause to
weep Are those we passed in childhood, or asleep i
'Tis beautiful to leave the world awhile
Heart and hand that move together,
Smiling answered Hiawatha:
Still dissuading said Nokomis:
Laughing answered Hiawatha:
Thus departed Hiawatha
With his moccasins of magic,
On the outskirts of the forest,
■ 'Twixt the shadow and the sunshine,
Herds of fallow deer were feeding,
But they saw not Hiawatha;
To hiB bow he whispered, " Fail not!"
To his arrow whispered, "Swerve not!"
Sent it singing on its errand,
To the red heart of the roebuck;
Threw the deer across his shoulder,
And sped forward without pausing.
At the doorway of his wigwam Sat the ancient Arrow-maker, In the land of the Dacotahs, Making arrow-heads of jasper, Arrow-heads of chalcedony. At his side, in all her beauty, Sat the lovely Minnehaha, Sat his daughter, Laughing Water, Plaiting mats of flags and rushes; Of the past the old man's thoughts were, And the maiden's of the future.
He was thinking, as he sat there, Of the dayB when with such arrows He had struck the deer and bison, On the Muskoday, the meadow; Shot the wild gooBe, flying southward, On the wing, the clamorous Wawa; Thinking of the great war-parties, How they came to buy his arrows, Could not fight without his arrows. Ah, no more such noble warriors Could be found on earth as they were! Now the men were all like women, Only used their tongues for weapons!
She was thinking of a hunter, From another tribe and country, Young and tall and very handsome, Who one morning in the Spring-time, Came to buy her father's arrows, Sat and rested in the wigwam, Lingered long about the doorway, Looking back as he departed. She had heard her father praise him, PraiBe his courage and his wisdom; Would he come again for arrows To the falls of Minnehaha? On the mat her hands lay idle, And her eyes were very dreamy.