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A BALLAD UPON A WEDDING. TELL thee, Dick, where I have been, At Course-a park, without all doubt, Where I the rarest things have seen,
He should have first been taken out Oh, things without compare!
By all the maids o' the town; Such sights again cannot be found
Though lusty Roger there had been, In any place on English ground,
Or little George upon the Green, Be it at wake or fair.
Or Vincent of the Crown. At Charing Cross, hard by the way
But wot you what ? the youth was going Where we, thou know'st, do sell our hay, To make an end of all his wooing;
There is a house with stairs ; And there did I see coming down Such folk as are not in our town
Forty at least, in pairs.
Walked on before the rest ;
Should he go still so drest.
The parson for him stayed ;
Perchance, as did the maid.
Could ever yet produce ;
Nor half so full of juice.
Perhaps he made it hers by stealth,
And who could help it, Dick ?
Then dance again, and kiss.
And every man wished his.
But that he must not know;
SIR JOHN SUCKLING.
ON THE THRESHOLD.
Her finger was so small, the ring
It was too wide a peck;
About our young colt's neck.
As if they feared the light;
Is half so fine a sight!
Who sees them is undone ;
The side that's next the sun.
Some bee had stung it newly ;
Than on the sun in July.
That they might passage get;
And are not spent a whit.
I trow, beside the bride ;
Nor was it there denied.
His summons did obey ;
Presented, and away.
To stay to be entreated?
The company was seated.
The bride's came thick and thick;
ING out, O bells, ring silver-sweet o'er
hill and moor and fell! In mellow echoes let your chimes their hope
ful story tell. Ring out, ring out, all jubilant, this joyous
glad refrain : “A bright new year, a glad new year, hath come to us again !”
II. Ah, who can say how much of joy within it
there may be Stored up for us, who listen now to your sweet
melody? Good-bye, Old Year, tried, trusty friend, thy
tale at last is told. O New Year, write thou thine for us in lines
of brightest gold.
The flowers of Spring must bloom at last,
when gone the Winter's snow; God grant that after sorrow past, we all some
joy may know. Though tempest-tossed our bark a while on
life's rough waves may be, There comes a day of calm at last, when we
the Haven see.
Then ring, ring on, 0 pealing bells! there's
music in the sound. Ring on, ring on, and still ring on, and wake
the echoes round, The while we wish, both for ourselves and all
whom we hold dear, That God may gracious be to us in this the bright new year!
INVOCATION TO SLEEP.
Let me know some little joy ;
We that suffer long annoy All my fancies; that from thence
Are contented with a thought, I may feel an influence,
Through an idle fancy wrought; All my powers of care bereaving!
Oh, let my joys have some abiding!
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.
Do we go hence and find that they are not Y comes and goes, hope ebbs and flows
dead! Like the wave;
Joys we daily apprehend. Change doth unknit the tranquil strength of Faces that smiled and fled, men.
Hopes born here, and born to end. Love lends life a little grace,
Shall we follow ?
IT NEVER COMES AGAIN.
THERE are gains for all our losses, Dreams dawn and fly, friends smile and die
There are balms for all our pain; Like spring flowers;
But when youth, the dream, departs, Our vaunted life is one long funeral.
It takes something from our hearts,
And it never comes again.
Mazed with doubts and sick with fears, We are stronger, and are better,
Under manhood's sterner reign;
S:ill we feel that something sweet We count the hours! These dreams of ours Followed youth, with flying feet, False and hollow.
And will never come again.
from the thunder.f the Porn
And the cloud that took the form listen the rest It even was blue/
He heard the wind beat loud and free,
The gilded casement, sullenly
Falling away with mist and rain.
“But, oh, it's a weary thing Where did you get the eyes so blue?
To wear a crown and be a king Out of the sky, as I came through.
Oh, for one golden hour and sweet,
To serve the king with willing feet!” Where did you get that little tear?
But he would sleep and from his heart I found it in waiting when I got here.
The jeweled, silken girdle loose,
And give it room to turn and choose What makes your forehead so smooth and An easier measure for its beat.
high? A soft hand stroked it as I went by.
Into the gilded chamber crept
A breath of summer, blown with rain What makes your cheek like a warm, white And wild wet leaves against the pane. rose ?
The royal sleeper smiled and slept. I saw something better than any knows.
“ I thought that all things sweet were dead!"
They heard him say who came to wed Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss ?
The crown again to the king's head. Three angels gave me at once a kiss.
ANONYMOUS. Where did you get this pretty ear? God spoke, and it came out to hear.
KEYS. Where did you get those arms and hands?
ONG ago in old Granada, when the Moors Love made itself into hooks and bands.
were forced to flee,
Each man locked his home behind him, taking Feet, whence did you come, you darling
in his flight the key. things!
Hopefully they watched and waited for the From the same box as the cherub's wings.
time to come when they How did they all come just to be you ?
Should return from their long exile to those
homes so far away. God thought of me, and so I grew.
But the mansions in Granada they had left in But, how did you come to us, you dear?
all their prime God thought about you, and so I am here.
Vanished, as the years rolled onward, 'neath GEORGE MACDONALD.
the crumbling touch of Time.
Like the Moors, we all have dwellings where AT THE KING'S GATE.
we vainly long to be, BEGGAR sat at the king's gate
And through all life's changing phases ever fast And sang of summer in the rain
we hold the key. A song with sounds reverberate
Our fair country lies behind us; we are exiles, Of wood and hill and plain, That, rising, bore a tender weight
too, in truth,
For no more shall we behold her. Our GranOf sweetness, strong and passionate;
ada's name is Youth. A song with sigh of mountain pass, Ripple and rustle of deep grass,
We have our delusive day-dreams, and rejoice The whispering of wind-smote sheaves,
when, now and then, Low lapping of long lily leaves,
Some old heartstring stirs within us, and we Red morns and purple-mooned eves.
feel our youth again. The king was weary of his part,
“We are young!" we cry triumphant, thrilled The king was tired of his crown;
with old-time joy and glee. He looked across the rainy land,
Then the dream fades slowly, softly, leaving Across the barren stretch of sand,
nothing but the key! Out to the breadth of rainy sea.