KIRTLE RED. 45 * "With all my heart, little bird," said she; -Sing heigh, sing ho, for the summer "He's welcome to kirtle red for me; Somebody's fast, while somebody's free! There's nothing, no, nothing, like libertie!" -Sing heigh, sing ho, for the summer ! * Reprinted, from the song of "Kirtle Red," by permission of Messrs Boosey & Co. TO AN UTTER STRANGER. E. F. BLANCHARD. T cannot be said I've no love Believe me not utterly blind, For slighting your eyes. No violet, purple, not red, Can rival their hue ; Maria's are hazel you know Well, hazel will do. I will not deny that your hair Is black as the wings TO AN UTTER STRANGER. 47 Of ravens-I'm tired of ravens The troublesome things. Maria's is certainly auburn, Whatever you say— Rich colour that runs little risk Of changing to gray. And though it appears that her lips The kisses they'll possibly give Will equally please. I cannot pretend to assert Her teeth to be pearls Her locks to be hyacinth leaves They're curls-simply curls. And down where they nestle below Her unswanlike neck, A bosom that's not alabaster They happily deck. The light heart that's dancing beneath That breast, gives me life; The lips utter merely one word— Sweet sentiment-wife. 48 TO AN UTTER STRANGER. It cannot be said I've no heart Because it won't break Life or soul, because I decline To die for your sake. THE PET CANARY. E. LAMAN BLANCHARD. B IRD of the household! songster of home, Whose notes in a wild burst of harmony come, Like a voice from the woods, or a song by the stream Of Youth's early May-time and Love's early dream; Thy cage is no prison, no captive thus sings, And free in the sun flies the gold of thy wings. "Pretty Dick!" let thy mistress, sweet, whisper a word Her heart is a captive much more than her bird. Oh, would thou couldst utter her thoughts in thy lay, Then free shouldst thou fly to the one far away, D |