YEARS AGO.

And I did love you very dearly—

How dearly, words want power to show; I thought your heart was touched as nearly, But that was fifty years ago.

Then other lovers came around you,
Your beauty grew from year to year,
And many a splendid circle found you
The centre of its glittering sphere.

I saw you then, first vows forsaking,
On rank and wealth your hand bestow;
Oh, then I thought my heart was breaking,—
But that was forty years ago.

And I lived on, to wed another:
No cause she gave me to repine;
And when I heard you were a mother,
I did not wish the children mine.
My own young flock, in fair progression,
Made up a pleasant Christmas row:
My joy in them was past expression,-

But that was thirty years ago.

265

266

YEARS AGO.

You grew a matron plump and comely,
You dwelt in fashion's brightest blaze;
My earthly lot was far more homely,

But I too had my festal days.

No merrier eyes have ever glistened

Around the hearthstone's wintry glow,

Than when my youngest child was christened,

But that was twenty years ago.

Time past; my eldest girl was married,
And I am now a grandsire grey ;

One pet of four years old I've carried
Among the wild-flowered meads to play.

In our old fields of childish pleasure,
Where now, as then, the cowslips blow,
She fills her basket's ample measure,-
And that is not ten years ago.

But though first love's impassioned blindness
Has passed away in colder light,

I still have thought of you with kindness,

And shall do, till our last good-night.

YEARS AGO.

267

The ever-rolling silent hours.

Will bring a time we shall not know, When our young days of gathering flowers

Will be an hundred years ago.

OUR BALL.

W. M. PRAED.

'LL come to our ball:-since we parted I've thought of you more than I'll say; Indeed, I was half broken-hearted

For a week, when they took you away. Fond fancy brought back to my slumbers Our walks on the Ness and the Den,

And echoed the musical numbers

Which you used to sing to me then. I know the romance, now 'tis over, 'Twere idle, or worse, to recall;

I know you're a terrible rover;

But, Clarence, you'll come to our ball.

OUR BALL.

269

It's only a year since at college

You put on your cap and your gown;

But, Clarence, you've grown out of knowledge, And changed from the spur to the crown:

The voice, that was best when it faltered,

Is firmer and fuller in tone,

And the smile, that should never have altered, Dear Clarence, it is not your own.

Your cravat was badly selected,

Your coat don't become you at all; And why is your hair so neglected? You must have it curled for our ball.

I've often been out upon Haldon
To look for a covey with Pup;

I've often been over to Shaldon

Too see how your boat is laid up:

In spite of the terrors of Aunty

I've ridden the filly you broke;
And I've studied your sweet little Dante
In the shade of your favourite oak.