Musa Burschicosa: A Book of Songs for Students and University Men

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Edmonston and Douglas, 1869 - Songs, English - 135 pages
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Page 55 - Rocking on a lazy billow With roaming eyes, Cushioned on a dreamy pillow, Thou art not wise ; Wake the power within thee sleeping, Trim the plot that's in thy keeping ; Thou wilt bless the task when reaping Sweet labour's prize. Since the green earth had beginning, Land, sea, and skies,
Page 83 - 11 give a furlough to my books, Let no man count it treason, And fish for health and ruddy looks At Oban in the season ! For Oban is a dainty place; In distant or in nigh lands, No town delights the tourist race Like Oban in the Highlands
Page 57 - Is garnered by the wise. Let each to-morrow Do to-morrow's work with power ; But he soweth sorrow Who lives beyond the hour. While mad ambition stints his sleep, To scale the skies and plumb the deep, I trim my little plot, and reap My roses with the wise.
Page 42 - sensuous show ! Now brim your glass, and plant it well Beneath your nose on the table, And you will find what philosophers tell Of I and non-I is no fable. Now, listen to wisdom, my son ! Myself am the subject, This wine is the object
Page 93 - SOME book-worms will sit and will study Alone, with their dear selves alone, Till their brain like a mill-pond grows muddy And their heart is as cold as a stone. But listen to what I now say, boys, Who know the fine art to unbend,
Page 96 - on the brae ; To whom shall I give it \ To whom shall I give it ? Not to the haughty, the high, and the proud, Not to Clotilda, who sails through the crowd With a lofty look and a fine disdain, As if all were born to hold her train ; But beautiful
Page 94 - birring, A spinster may sit and may croon, But a mettlesome youth should be stirring, Like Hermes with wings to his shoon; With a club, or a bat, or a mallet, Making sport with the ball on the green, Or roaming about with a wallet, Where steamboats and tourists are seen.
Page 105 - Which is better, who can say, Lucy grave or Mary gay ? She who half her charms conceals, She who flashes while she feels ? Why should I my love confine ? Why should fair be mine or thine ? If I praise a tulip, why Should I pass
Page 95 - Then rise from the lean-visaged study, That drains all the sap from your brains : Give your face to the breeze and grow ruddy With blood that exults in the veins. Trust me,—for I know what I say, boys,— And use the fine art to unbend, All work, with no season of play, boys, Makes Jack a dull boy in the end

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