OUT OF THE WINDOW.

I HEARD the woodfisher tapping,

The kingpecker blithe on the wing;

I looked, and turned out of the window

A patent back-action hand-spring.

My breath? 'T was to cheer up my sadness,

Just a tipple to banish my gloom;

But my face, which was cleanly, O madness!

Appeared to be going to bloom.

The nose I have worn from my childhood,

Which I follow wherever I go,

Like the bulbs that turn up in the wildwood,

Is swelled and beginning to blow.

A very remarkable instance

Came recently under my eye;

The sap of my system ran upwards,

And developed a very fine stye.

I forget my own age, and go bathing

In any trade-wind that I meet,

Till Lumbago says, "Sir, that is a thing

Romantic, but most indiscreet."

Pacific Weakly.