The street has become widened where it was narrow, and straightened
where it was crooked. The very sidewalks on either side of the new
boulevard or avenue are as wide as was the whole of the old street
which has now disappeared. And with the old street the old tenants
have disappeared too. Handsome shops occupy the ground-floors, wealthy
citizens live in the richly adorned apartments on the upper floors.
The blousards who hived in the old street have found a nook in some
other old street, or they have fled to the suburbs--the best place for
them, as it is for all people of limited resources in all large towns.
WIRT SIKES.
SONNET.
If thou didst love me for imagined fame,
Or for some reason bred within thy mind
By teeming Fancy, till thy sense grew blind,
And wish and its possession seemed the same,
Was it my fault that I was not endowed
With all the virtues of thy paragon--
That clearer light did shine my flaws upon,
And showed the actual presence free from cloud?
Ah, no! the fault, if blame there be, was thine.
If thou hadst loved me for myself alone,
Thy love had lent its graces unto mine,
Until my frailties had to merits grown--
Till light, reflected from thy soul divine,
Had so transfused me that I too had shone.
F.A. HILLARD.
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