or
qr

RIDDLES.

From morning to night, I do nothing but fret
With wishing to be what I never was yet.

 

RIDDLE CXY.

LOVELY, bright, ethereal spark,
Gaily twinkling in the dark

Bosom of the ebon night,
With a blue phosporic light :
What art thou? The torch of love >—
May’st thou more successful prove
Than that famed signal did of yore,
On the Hellespontie shore !—
Now thou vanishest away !
Yet a little longer stay ;
How can else thy airy lover,
Thy retreat or thee discover ?
Wait not till the rising morn ;
Shall betray thy real form ;
Lest what to-night so much be prized,
May to-morrow be despised.

 

RIDDLE CXYVI.
HAT I do—what I do not—conjoined will
make what Chloe is.