My first in kingdoms you will find
Where sovereigns great have reign;
My second on the Atlantic see,
When brave hearts cross the main.
My whole, an ally strong and bold
Of a United State,
If on the map you think to find,
Some time you’ll have to wait.
Lane
When night-winds whistle o’er the plain,
And howls the storm in many a burst,
How cheering to the way-worn swain
To seek the shelter of my first!
With cunning shining in his face,
From eyes so watchful, keen, and dark,
The scion of a remnant race—
My artful second you may mark.
My third in bearded front arrayed,
With Autumn’s golden stores is found;
Yet torn, and bruised, and lowly laid,
Its head must rest upon the ground.
My whole you always must forgive,
As you expect to be forgiven;
Nor must it in your memory live,
Though multiplied to seven times seven.
I stand on my first, on my second I sit,
On my whole I do either just as I think fit.
First.
Mantling the ruined wall
With my green, yielding pall;
You know me well.
Covering the river’s brink,
’Neath your soft tread I sink.
My name pray tell.
Second.
Fairest of earthly flowers,
Queen of your garden bowers,
Flora’s delight,
Twined o’er the cottage door,
My showers of incense pour
On the still nights.
Whole.
See, when the blushing bride
Casts her rich vail aside,
I’m nestled there,
Near some soft, waving tress,
Or on her bridal dress,
Shining so fair.
Oft on the mourner’s tomb
Drooping and sad I bloom,
Token of love
Left by the orphaned child,
Calling in accents wild
For those above.
My first is a short sleep. My second is a relation. My
whole is an article in daily use.
Birds
My first belongs, in pairs, to man and beast,
And of the gifts of harvest not the least;
The treasures of my next no boy of feeling
Will e’er disgrace his heart or name by stealing;
My first and third the time, my whole the way,
To undertake the duties of each day.
My first is a body of water.
My second is a fish.
My third is a preposition.
My fourth is a name for the head.
My whole was a bone of contention.
Did’st ever go to singing-school,
And hear the master try
To sound the notes upon the scale,
From lowest to most high?
Then have you heard my first, the best,
Fall sweetly on your ear,
’Tis strange that with such company
My second should appear.
My second ne’er in gentle mood,
Is full of ire and hate,
Oh, let none who shall glance this o’er,
Be found in such a state.
’Tis only for the lunatic,
Bereft of reason’s light,
Thus to profane his nature by
So sorrowful a sight.
My whole is an illusion vain,
Yet perfect as untrue;
It doth the real object seem,
But double on the view.
By its strange spell the water seems
As if ’twere hung in air,
The desert traveler knows full well
Its vision false as fair.
My first is one, ’tis even you,
My whole by many have been reckoned,
But only He who numbers all
Can ever rightly count my second.
My first is an article in daily use.
My second spells the twentieth letter of the alphabet.
My third, if you prefix the letters, will name a declivity.
My whole is an animal.
Chinchillas
My first is a part of the human face.
My second is an unpleasant sensation.
My third is an article.
My whole is a small animal.
My first is found in every bog,
In every pool and pond,
Without me not a single frog
Or toad could e’er be found.
My next is always to be found
Wherever men exist;
I build their houses, plow their ground,
And help them to subsist.
With dread the superstitious soul
Will speculate upon my whole.
Entire, I’m water, earth, or air,
I’m food, or clothes, or light,
Always provided, lady fair,
That these are used aright.
And though in fifty things I stay,
This you will surely find,
Come in whatever form I may,
I benefit mankind.
Two syllables I do possess,
But what is very droll,
Although a part my second is,
My first one is the whole.
My first is always on a par
With every earthly thing;
With reptile, brute, bird, fish, and man,
With beggar, priest, and king.
My second is a title—
A foreign one, ’tis true—
But none the less familiar
To every one of you.
My whole—a glorious revenge!
And Heaven’s kindest boon:
I dare not tell you plainer, lest
You find me out too soon.
My first is what young ladies aim at in their movements,
and what Christians pray for.
My second is what in winter we see little of, and what
no young man likes to be considered.
My third is what every woman should be before she is
won, and what we should be badly off without during
this cold weather.
My whole is the name of an authoress, highly popular
with both old and young.
Sleigh riding
My first, from the frozen North comes down
In snowy mantle dressed;
And the smiling earth grows bare and brown,
Where’er his steps have pressed,
The flowers close up each sparkling eye,
And hide in the earth till he passes by.
But when bleak winds and frosts are gone,
’Mid April’s smiles and tears,
My second’s hue the earth puts on,
And summer beauty wears;
And tuneful birds and opening flowers
Invite you to the forest bowers.
On moss-grown banks, half hidden there,
My whole may oft be seen;
My fragrant leaves perfume the air,
And shine in emerald green;
And there my crimson berry glows,
Ripened beneath New England snows.
My first.
The boy who, trusting in his father’s word,
Sprang from the towering mast to meet the wave,
Possessed in me the pledge that risk incurred,
Was equaled by that father’s power to save.
My second.
The nation scourged, dispersed through every land,
For many ages, wanderers without home,
In me waits patiently the guiding hand
Will lead its pilgrims back no more to roam.
My third.
The mother standing at the judgment seat,
When wisdom’s voice to death her babe did give,
Resigned to me her claim—willing to meet
Her loss, so that her precious child might live.
Through me the tongue of slander lulls its voice,
Through me the poor have full provision given;
I lift the fallen one, bid hearts rejoice;
I bid the poor of earth seek wealth in heaven.
My whole.
A jeweled diadem of priceless worth,
I quench the luster of all crowns on earth.
My first in gardens oft is seen,
And oft adorns the bride;
In early spring its leaves are green—
It is the maiden’s pride.
My second thou repeatest
Full oft in fireside games:
As sweet, if not the sweetest,
Of all familiar names.
A flow’ring shrub, in a distant clime,
My whole in beauty grows;
It grew by the sea in olden time,
And thus its name arose.
Awake, my first, with thy inspiring tone,
Behold an instrument joy calls his own,
And with responsive foot, on dewy meads,
The sylvan dance of fawn and wood nymph leads.
My next adorns the noble Latin tongue,
Whose numbers flow sonorous, smooth, and strong;
There, should you fail to find the word, perchance
’Twill greet you in the livelier tones of France.
My whole, a fragrant flower—’tis not for me
To eulogize its grace and modesty;
Full oft the poet’s reed hath breathed its fame,
In loftier measures—can’st thou tell its name?
Firefly
In stillness of midnight, the cry of my first
On ear of the sleeper affrighted will burst;
The bells peal their loudest each moment of time,
As if life depended on even one chime.
Oh, then is my first in his terror arrayed,
When anger burns fiercely, he may not be stayed.
Again round the hearth-stone are happy hearts met,
From gray-headed sire to the lisping young pet.
The flame doth grow warmer, and brighter the light;
How cheering it maketh the winter’s cold night!
So changeth my first, as the hawk to the dove,
His aspect is here one of comfort and love.
My second, bound neither to inland or coast,
Is one ’mong the many, a numberless host;
Full transient his being; he cometh in spring,
And chill winds of autumn his requiem sing.
Though said to be useful, I frankly confess,
My wish has been often his music were less.
Though peaceful his temper, I can not deny
That rarely by nature he’s suffered to die.
A foe doth he find in the duster and brush,
E’en flowerets allure, his existence to crush;
Like warfare with bodkin Domitian begun,
Hence gathering much of the fame which he won.
My whole doth love best to be out in the night,
And flatters himself on his furnishing light;
Dear Luna is nothing of comfort to him,
For brighter his glory when hers is most dim.
Two lamps he doth carry, and brilliant they are,
As beams which were stolen from eye of a star.
His joy is to frisk from the sunset to dawn;
When morn comes, the pride of his beauty is gone!
In tropical climates he oft’nest doth dwell,
He lighteth the savage—hast never heard tell?
’Tis growing quite dark; oh, I wish he were nigh;
Perchance he would give me his lamps to see by.
My first is equality, my second inferiority, and my
whole superiority.
I am composed of nine letters.
My first is a name appropriated to a certain class of
foreigners. It is also a nickname.
My second is an article.
My third implies motion.
My fourth in sound implies proximity.
My fifth is a vowel.
My whole is a part of the Western hemisphere.
When round the weary traveler
The stormy evening closes,
When tangled wood or swelling stream
His toilsome way opposes;
If through the trees his eager steps
To rest and warmth are beckoned,
How gladly will he hail my first,
That leads him to my second!
When from some hill’s commanding brow
The gloomy prospect viewing,
He hears the distant ocean rage,
Waves, frightened waves pursuing,
How gladly turns he to my whole,
In watch serene abiding,
And fears no more to think of those
Who trust my faithful guiding.
Till winter takes his stormy seat,
In fragrant meads and gardens sweet
Evolves my viscid first;
When stilly night, with fleecy cloud
Flings round the earth a darksome shroud,
My second often beams;—
O would you each enjoy my whole,
And have true bliss pervade your soul
And from your eyes outburst—
Some loving one make haste to find,
Let Hymen close your spirits bind,
And learn just how it seems!
Hare
My first is a timid and gentle creature,
Restless and bright her glancing eye,
Quick to discern the approach of danger,
Swift from her covert to spring and fly.
Oft in the cool of the dewy morning,
Startled amid her calm retreat,
She heareth the shrill-toned sound of warning,
And bounds away on frantic feet,
While close her fierce pursuers follow,
Through brush and brake, o’er hill and hollow.
My second telleth of holy seasons,
And calleth the multitude to prayers;
On festivals speaketh right joyously,
When all a face of gladness wears;
Having at times, too, a voice of sorrow,
Speaking in deep and solemn tone,
Telling how faithless is false to-morrow,
To those who weep for the dear ones gone;
Yet feeling itself nor grief nor gladness,
Responsive ever to mirth or sadness.
My whole is a beautiful, modest flower,
Shaking its bells to the summer wind,
Peeping out coyly from lonely places,
Which footsteps of children love to find,
Dreaming they hear in the purple blossoms
Fairy-like tones of the olden time:
Fondly thinking the sweet bells are ringing,
With a soft, low, musical chime,
Their golden curls and innocent bosoms,
They fill with the graceful, drooping blossoms.
Moonlight
My first is seen in all its pride
On summer nights when bright and clear,
O’er hill and dale I beauty throw;
Night owes me much throughout the year;
Some say my whole no substance has,
However plain it may appear;
I shall not give you further clue,
No need to one as smart as you;
Enough, my whole is written here.
LABYRINTH NO. 2.
This Labyrinth must be entered at the front gate, and a way traced to the centre (A), without climbing the walls.
RIDDLES.
I have three feet, dear friends,
And you must know:
I’ve sixteen nails,
But not a single toe!
I am originally a descendant of rags, but, in spite of my
mean origin, I boast one of the most numerous families in
the world. I wear the countenance of a man, varying in
complexion from crimson to azure; and twice two stars
are my companions. But, although of such dignity, besides
having my face disfigured, I am continually spit
upon, and trodden under foot by all mankind, who seem
to value me only for my good looks—without them, I am
despised. I am diminutive in size, and my days are few,
but I am well known, and constantly sought after.
Who are we? When in the morning you rise
We let the sunshine down into your eyes.
Then we go playing before you all day,
Dark things we brighten, and soften the gay.
Oh! we make half the world’s beauty for you.
Little blue-eyed one, who are we? guess who?
Who are we? When the night shadows grow deep,
We draw around you the curtains of sleep.
When into dream-land we’ve locked you up tight,
Until the morn brings her bright keys of light,
Guess who like sentinels guarding you lie,—
Look—we’re before you now—black and gray eye.
I am born of a moment, as every one knows,
And rival the tints of the loveliest rose;
There are many who think me the offspring of shame,
But I’m oftener found in sweet modesty’s train;
E’en poets have made me the theme of their muse,
And painters have studied my delicate hues:
Yet, would you believe it! I cause much vexation
To those who possess me, and some irritation;
For I’ve often betrayed what they would have concealed,
And some of their most-cherished secrets revealed:
So be truthful, dear girls, or in spite of your tact,
I’ll fly in your faces and tell the whole fact.
Of metal I can make a heart;
I put a stop to ease;
And with a tradesman I can talk
As glibly as you please.
With a building in New York I’ll make
A covering for your head;
And with the rust upon your knife
I’ll make a piece of bread.
I’ll make a prison with old time,
And with a measure, too:
Now, Cousins all, say what I am,
For I belong to you.
I was pure, unsullied, white as snow,
But a little while ago,
When, by a tremendous squeeze,
I was spotted as you please.
Now, if you but look at me,
Something funny you will see,
That I am striped, spotted, white,
Yet that I am red to-night.
Snake
In Eden first, nigh the forbidden tree,
Found I my germ, as man his destiny;
Down in the depths of hell I had my birth;
I tortures there invented spread o’er Earth.
The man who strives for Fame’s approving nod,
I strike him on the face, he lies a clod.
I walk the public halls, and cheeks turn pale;
The speaker hears me, and his heart doth fail.
The young debutant on histrionic boards
Hath grace or ruin as my mood accords.
When two great powers (both vital friends of man
And both his enemies) in battle stand,
When over, under in their rage they roll;
Nor ever cease the fight, without control
Then am I found, and in the expiring sigh
The vanquished wrestler utters, then I die.
I am always seen in sugar,
And always seen in salt.
I am never seen in hops or beer,
But always seen in malt.
I’m never seen when it is light,
Yet, strange, I’m seen in day.
If you will look right sharp, I’m sure
You will find me when you stray.
I am never seen in coffee,
But always seen in tea.
I’m never found with mother,
With father I must be.
I’m always found with any thing,
Yet, strange as it may seem,
I’m never found in buttermilk,
But always found in cream.
I’m never found in good or sweet,
And never in your mind,
If you will study this right close,
My name you’ll surely find.
What force or strength can not get through,
I with a gentle touch can do;
And many in the street would stand,
Were I not as a friend at hand.
Kiss
There is a certain natural production neither animal,
vegetable, nor mineral. It generally exists from two to
six feet above the surface of the earth. It has neither
length, breadth, nor substance. It is neither male nor
female, but commonly exists between both. It is often
spoken of in the Old Testament, and strongly recommended
in the New; and serves equally the purposes of treachery
and fidelity.
I am a word in very common use. You will find me
more than once upon almost or quite every page, whether
a monosyllable, or dissyllable, or a polysyllable is to be
found out; but this much is told: my first and last letter
is the same; and my first three and my last three spell the
same word. A useful article this of personal decoration.
My interior is remarkable. Viewed one way, you laugh;
viewed another, you sigh. I am an etymological stumble,
and a novice hardly ever knows where to find me. To a
Frenchman and a German I am an abhorrence. They
never learn me so as even to call my name.
In vain you struggle to regain me,
When lost, you never can obtain me;
And yet, what’s odd, you sigh and fret,
Deplore my loss, and have me yet.
And often using me quite ill,
And seeking ways your slave to kill—
Then promising in future you
Will give to me the homage due.
Thus we go on from year to year;
My name pray let the party hear.
I’m swift as a shadow; I’m slow as a snail;
I fly like the storm-cloud impelled by the gale;
I sail with the mariner o’er the wide sea,
And traverse the shore with the bird and the bee.
I travel by day, and I travel by night,
And rarely from mortals I pass out of sight.
I dwell in the palace of nobles and kings,
But scorn not the cot where the poor mother sings;
But though I abide with the lowliest poor,
I ne’er have been turned from the rich man’s door.
I’m seen in the moon, when it waxes and wanes,
In the sun, too, at times when nature complains.
I’m courted much under shady bowers,
And welcomed at midnight or noonday hours.
I fly round the world each passing day,
And yet I’m as idle as a boy at play;
Nor do I repose at the set of the sun,
But wing my way by the light of the moon.
By day and by night I enter the door
Of high and of low, of rich and of poor;
And yet with a step so noiseless I come,
I’m not an intruder abroad or at home.
All deeds of darkness I ever eschew,
Though many such deeds I am forced to view
And now, since so often my features are seen,
Unless you can guess me, you surely are green.
Broom
I was born in the fields; taken from thence at an early
age, I was made to assume my present form, and sold as a
slave into the family of a wealthy merchant. While I
was young, and comely, my life was comparatively easy;
the modest Lucy would take me by the hand, and with
her I would roam over the richly-carpeted mansion; and
many a service I have rendered her. One morning, quite
early, before the rest of the family were up, Lucy was
standing by the window; I was leaning against her shoulder,
when she uttered a slight scream. I jumped, and came
near falling, but she caught hold of me, and pointing towards
the window, showed me the cause of her terror.
One well-aimed blow of mine felled the intruder to the
earth, and the footman coming in just then, gave him the
finishing touch. But, alas! my days of pleasant servitude
were drawing near a close. Lucy became dissatisfied
with me, and in a fit of pique, handed me over to the
cook, by whom I was hustled hither and thither, wherever
her fancy dictated. She was a careless woman, and one
day, while I was doing all I could to serve her, she actually
pushed me into the fire! Snatching me out as
quickly as possible, she plunged me into a bucket of cold
water; but I was disfigured and crippled for life, and disabled
from further service. The cook at length declared
she would no longer give me house-room, and one bitter
cold night, turned me out into the street, without a stitch
of clothing. I have never murmured when called upon to
work; yet here I lie, neglected, unheeded, and uncared
for.
But why should I complain? am I the only one shunned
and forsaken, when no longer able to minister to the
wants or pleasures of the world?
Snake
Among the snakes, I reck of one,
Not born of earthly breed,
And with this serpent vieth none,
In terror or in speed.
It darts upon its helpless prey
With roar both loud and high;
In one destruction borne away,
Rider and steed must die.
In highest place it loves to bide,
No door may bar its path,
And scaly armor’s iron pride
Will but attract its wrath.
The firmest earth it plows amain,
How tough soe’er it be—
As brittle reeds are snapt in twain
’Twill rend the mightiest tree.
Yet hath this monster, grim and fierce,
Ne’er twice with prey been fed,
But once its fiery tooth can pierce—
It slayeth—and is dead.
REBUSES.