HOME AMUSEMENTS.
CHARADE XLIII.
Mi Y first’s the gayest saddest thing,

That heaven to mortals gave;
It flutters most on rapture’s wing—
It withers o’er the grave.

My next is sought with toil and pain,
In various realms to find:

The search, alas! how very vain!
Its home is in the mind.

Just like a sweet and humble flower,
It seeks the silent shade;

It flees the haunts of pride and power—
Fops, fashions, and parade.

Lady, may’st thou, on whose fair breast
My whole with beauty glows,

Enjoy within that peace and rest,
Which it alone bestows!

 

CHARADE XLIV.

Y first is a man of the most exalted state: my

second, though industrious and inured to hard-