You SEVEN TIMES TW0.-ROMANCE. SEVEN TIMES THREE.-LOVE. COU bells in the steeple, ring, ring out LEANED out of window, I smelt the white your changes clover, How many soever they be, Dark, dark was the garden, I saw not the And let the brown meadow-lark's note as he gate; ranges “Now, if there be footsteps, he comes, my one Come over, come over to me. lover Hush, nightingale, hush! ( sweet nightinYet bird's clearest carol, by fall or by swell gale, wait ing Till I listen and hear No magical sense conveys, If a step draweth near, And bells have forgotten their old art of tell For my love he is late! ing The fortune of future days. “ The skies in the darkness stoop nearer and nearer, " Turn again, turn again,” once they rang A cluster of stars hangs like fruit in the tree, cheerily, The fall of the water comes sweeter, comes While a boy listened alone; clearer: Made his heart yearn again, musing so wearily To what art thou listening, and what dost All by himself on a stone. thou see? Let the star-clusters glow, Poor bells! I forgive you; your good days are Let the sweet waters flow, over, And cross quickly to me. And mine, they are yet to be; No listening, no longing shall aught, aught dis- “ You night-moths that hover where honey briins over You leave the story to me. From sycamore blossoms, or settle or sleep; cover: And dance with the cuckoo-buds slender and small! Here's two bonny boys, and here's mother's own lasses, Eager to gather them all. *You glow-worms, shine out, and the pathway discover To him that comes darkling along the rough steep. Ah, my sailor, make haste, And my love lieth deep- lover, I've conned thee an answer, it waits thee to night.” By the sycamore passed he, and through the white clover; Then all the sweet speech I had fashioned took flight; But I'll love him more, more Heigh-ho! daisies and buttercups ! Mother shall thread them a daisy chain; Sing them a song of the pretty hedge-sparrow, That loved her brown little ones, loved them full fain; Sing, “ Heart thou art wide, though the house be but narrow,” Sing once and sing it again. Heigh-ho! daisies and buttercups, they bow; A ship sails afar over warm ocean waters, And haply one musing doth stand at her prow. O bonny brown sons, and O sweet little daugh ters, May-be he thinks on you now! SEVEN TIMES FOUR.-MATERNITY. LEIGH-HO! daisies and buttercups, Pl Fair yellow daffodils, stately and tall! When the wind wakes how they rock in the grasses, Heigh-ho! daisies and buttercups, O what anear but golden brooms! And a waste of reedy rills; O what afar but the fine glooms On the rare blue hills! I shall not die, but live forlore How bitter it is to part! O to meet thee, my love, once more! O my heart, my heart! No more to hear, no more to see! O that an echo might awake And waft one note of thy psalm to me, Ere my heart-strings break! I should know it how faint soe'er, And with angel voices blent; O once to feel thy spirit anear, I could be content! “O bonny brown sons, and 0 sweet little daughters, May-be he thinks on you now!" Fair yellow daffodils, stately and tall- thrall measure, God that is over us all! SEVEN TIMES FIVE.-WIDOWHOOD. SLEEP and rest, my heart makes moan, Before I am well awake; Since I must not break!" With a stone at foot and at head; Keep both living and dead! I lift mine eyes, and what to see, But a world happy and fair; Comfort is not there. O once between the gates of gold, While an angel entering trod; But once—thee sitting to behold On the hills of God, A SONG OF A BOAT. THERE was once a boat on a billow: Lightly she rocked to her port remote, And the foam was white in her wake like snow, And her frail mast bowed when the breeze would blow, And bent like a wand of willow, I pray you what is the nest to me, My empty nest ? My boat sail down to the west ? Though my good man has sailed ? Now all its hope hath failed ? And the land where my nestlings be: sent, The only home for me—Ah, me! JEAN INGELOW. I shaded mine eyes one day when a boat Went curtsying over the billow, I marked her course till a dancing mote She faded out on the moonlit foam, And I stayed behind in the dear loved home; |