ARCHERY.

I.By the old window-seat

I was kneeling at her feet,

While the music's dreamy rhythm stirred the stillness of the hall;

For the bow upon her slipper

Was unloose, and, lest it trip her,

I was kneeling to retie it-that was all.

II.Quick ! the dance is nearly o'er,"

And her slipper beat the floor

In impatience at my lagging-for I rather liked the part.

"There ! you've broke it. Oh, how stupid !"

"Nay, 'twas but the bow of Cupid,

And it snapped, but lodged its arrow in my heart."

III."Shall I lead you to a chair?

Or, perhaps, a breath of air-"