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Come to me! thou shalt feed on honied words, Sweeter than song of birds; No wailing bulbul's throat, No melting dulcimer's melodious note, When o'er the midnight wave its murmurs float, Thy ravished sense might soothe With flow so liquid-soft, with strain so velvet-smooth.
They would learn, then, no more than they do at Dr. Dulcimer's famous suburban establishment for the idler members of the youthful aristocracy, where the masters learn the lessons and the boys hear them which saves a great deal of trouble for the time being. "Now," said the baby, "come and help me, or I shall not have finished before my brothers and sisters come, and it is time to go home."
Come to me! thou shalt feed on honied words, Sweeter than song of birds; No wailing bulbul's throat, No melting dulcimer's melodious note, When o'er the midnight wave its murmurs float, Thy ravished sense might soothe With flow so liquid-soft, with strain so velvet-smooth.
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