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WAITING. VITTING under the birch trees, in the Hearing the birds' gay carol, seeing each beantiful April day,
glancing wing, Watching the gleam through the branches Wishing them mute, lest the coming foot were
stream, watching the sunlight's play; unheard 'mid the sounds of Spring.
Sitting under the birch trees, where the thick That came and fitted round; ening lilacs made
Death, death, and nothing but death, Of white, purple, and green, a graceful screen, In every sight and sound!
her lonely head to shade ; Her book of the favorite poet unheeded at her
" And oh! those maidens young, side,
Who wrought in that dreary room She saw the bright noon pale to twilight soon, With figures drooping and spectres thin, she saw the gloaming glide,
And cheeks without a bloom ;
And the Voice that cried : For the pomp of Glide from its couch of violets, with its sad, pride, strange, lovely eyes,
We haste to an early tomb! With its soft, cool touch that says so much, with its voice like our happy sighs;
". For the pomp and pleasure of pride, With its sweet and soothing magic, for the
We toil like Afric slaves, tired heart and frame,
And only to earn a home at last, That had throbbed so strong, had tarried so
Where yonder cypress waves;' long, for the footstep that never came.
And then they pointed-I never saw
A ground so full of graves ! Never! The evening darkened, the night fell
66 And still the coffins came, soft o'er all, Each bird in its nest had found its rest; the Coffin after coffin still,
With their sorrowful trains and slow; flowers heard sleep's low call;
A sad and sickening show; She passed by the screen of lilacs, she passed From grief exempt, I had never dreamt to her silent hoine,
Of such a world of woe! The sweet sad pain had been all in vain ; the footstep had never come.
“ Of the hearts that daily break, AVONYMOUS. Of the tears that hourly fall,
Of the many, many troubles of life,
That grieve this earthly ball,
Disease and Hunger and Pain and Want;
But now I dreamt of them all.
“For the blind and crippled were there, But her sleep was restless and broken still; And the babe that pined for bread, For turning oft and oft
And the houseless man, and the widow poor From side to side, she muttered and moaned, Who begged-to bury the dead; And tossed her arms aloft.
The naked, alas, that I might have clad,
The famished I might have fed !
“ The sorrow I might have soothed, With a look of awe, as if she saw
And the unregarded tears;
For many a thronging shape was there,
Aye, even the poor rejected Moor,
Who raised my childish fears!
“ Each pleading look that long ago And the light that fell on the broidered quilt I scanned with a heedless eye, Kept a tremulous gleam ;
Each face was gazing as plainly there And her voice was hollow, and shook as she As when I passed it by ; cried :
Woe, woe for me, if the past should be “Oh me! that awful dream!
Thus present when I die! " That weary, weary walk,
“No need of sulphureous lake, In the churchyard's dismal ground;
No need of tiery coal,
Who wanted pity and dole, In everlasting retrospect
Will wring my sinful soul!
Too heedless where I trod;
And fill the burial sod,
Not unmarked of God.
And ate whatever is good;
Supplied my hungry mood;
That starve for want of food. "I dressed as the noble dress,
In cloth of silver and gold,
With silk, and satin, and costly furs,
In many an ample fold;
That froze with winter's cold!
The human sorrow and smart!
To play so ill a part;
As well as want of heart!"
And the tears began to stream;
Remorse was so extreme;
“They gi’ed bim my hand, but my heart was at the sea;
AULD ROBIN GRAY. SHEN the sheep are in the fauld, and the Young Jamie lo'ed me weel, and sought me kye at hame,
for his bride; And a' the warld to rest are gane,
But saving a croun he had naething else beside; The waes o' my heart fa’ in showers frae my To make the croun a pund, young Jamie gaed e'e,
to sea, While my gudeman lies sound by me. And the croun and the pund were baith for me.
He hadna been away a week but only twa,
ODE TO ADVERSITY. When my father brak his arm, and the cow
AUGHTER of Jove, relentless power, was stown awa;
Thou tamer of the human breast, My mother she fell sick, and my Jamie at the Whose iron scourge and torturing hour sea,
The bad affright, afflict the best; And auld Robin Gray came a-courtin' me.
Bound in thy adamantine chain,
The proud are taught to taste of pain, My father couldna work, and my mother And purple tyrants vainly groan couldna spin;
With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone, I toiled night and day, but their bread I couldna win;
When first thy sire, to send on earth, Auld Rob maintained them baith, and wi' Virtue, his darling child, designed, tears in his e'e,
To thee he gave the heavenly birth,
And bade to form her infant mind;
With patience many a year she bore ; My heart it said nay, for I looked for Jamie What sorrow was, thou bad'st her know, back;
And from her own, she learned to melt at othBut the wind it blew high, and the ship, it
ers' woe. was a wrack;
Scared at thy frown terrific, fly His ship it was a wrack-why didna Jamie Self pleasing Folly's idle brood, dee?
With Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy, Or why do I live to cry, Wae's me?
And leave us leisure to be good.
Light they disperse; and with them go My father urgit sair; my mother didna The summer friend, the flattering foe, speak,
By vain Prosperity received ; But she lookit in my face till my heart was To her they vow their truth, and are again like to break;
believed. They gi’ed him my hand, but my heart was at Wisdom, in simple garb arrayed,
Immersed in rapturous thought profound, Sae auld Robin Gray he was gudeman to And Melancholy, silent mait,
With leaden eve that loves the ground,
Still on thy solemn steps attend;
And Pity, dropping soft the sadly pleasing tear. I saw my Jamie's wraith, for I couldna think it he,
Oh, gently on thy suppliant's head, Till he said, “I'm come hame to marry thee.”
Dread goddess, lay thy chastening hand! Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad,
Nor circled with thy vengeful band, On sair, sair did we greet, and muckle did we
As by the impious thou art seen, say ; We took but ae kiss, and I bade him gang With screaming Horror's funeral cry,
With thundering voice and threatening mien, away ; I wish that I were dead, but I'm no like to Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty. dee;
Thy form benign, oh goddess, wear! And why was I born to say, Wae's me?
Thy milder indluence impart,
Thy philosophic train be there,
Teach me to love and to forgive;
Exact my own defects to scan, For auld Robin Gray he is kind to me. What others are to feel, and know myself a LADY ANN LINDSAY.
BACKWARD, turn backward, 0 Time in
ROCK ME TO SLEEP.
Lovingly, softly, its bright billows sweep;
Mother, dear mother, the years have been long Make me a child again, just for to-night! Since I last listened your lullaby song ; Mother, come back from the echoless shore, Sing, then; and unto my soul it shall seem Take me again to your heart, as of yore; Womanhood's years have been only a dream. Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care, Clasped to your heart in a loving embrace, Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair; With your light lashes just sweeping my face, Over my slumbers your loving watch keep;
Never hereafter to wake or to weep, Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep! Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep!
ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN. Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years!
("* Florence Percy,'') I am so weary of toil and of tears, Toil without recompense, tears all in vain; OFT IN THE STILLY NIGHT. Take them, and give me my childhood again.
FT in the stilly night, I have grown weary of dust and decay,
Ere slumber's chain hath bound me, Weary of flinging my soul-wealth away,
Fond memory brings the light Weary of sowing for others to reap;
Of other days around me; Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep!
The smiles, the tears Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue,
Of boy hood's years, Mother, O mother, my heart calls for you!
The words of love then spoken; Many a summer the grass has grown green,
The eyes that shone Blossomed and faded, our faces between,
Now dimmed and gone, Yet with strong yearning and passionate pain,
The cheerful hearts now broken: Long I to-night for thy presence again.
Thus in the stilly night, Come from the silence, so long and so deep;
Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep!
Sad Memory brings the light
Of other days around me.
When I remember all
The friends so linked together
I've seen around me fall
Like leaves in wintry weather,
I feel like one
Who treads alone
Some banquet-hall deserted,
Whose lights are fled, Come, let your brown hair, just lighted with
Whose garlands dead, gold,
And all but he departed ! Fall on your shoulders, again as of old,
Thus in the stilly night, Let it drop over my forehead to-night,
Ere slumber's chain has bound me,
Sad Memory brings the light
AFFLICTION. 'HE bread of bitterness is the food on which men grow to their fullest stature; the
waters of bitterness are the debatable ford through which they reach the shores of wisdom; the ashes boldly grasped and eaten without faltering are the price that must be paid for the golden fruit of knowledge.
LOUISE DE LA RAME.