text:  Canst thou in the day have pleasure Which but breaks on rapture in Scares us from our dreams of leisure With its glare and irksome din? But when night is come and glowing Is the lamp's attemper'd ray And from lip to lip are flowing Love and mirth in sparkling play; When the fiery boy that wildly Rushes in his wayward mood Calms to rest disporting mildly By some trivial gift subdued; When the nightingale is trilling Songs of love to lovers' ears Which to hearts with sorrow thrilling Seem but sighs and waken tears; Then with bosom lightly springing Dost thou listen to the bell That with midnight's number ringing Speaks of rest and joy so well? Then dear heart this comfort borrow From the long day's lingering light-- Every day hath its own sorrow Gladness cometh with the night! We are somewhat puzzled as to the title which we ought to prefix to our next specimen