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Then cries of pain, and arms outreaching,

The beck grows wider and swift and deep; Passionate words as of one beseeching,

The loud beck drowns them: we walk and weep

V.

A yellow moon in splendor drooping,

A tired queen with her state oppressed, Low by rushes and sword-grass stooping, Lies she soft on the waves at rest.

The desert heavens have felt her sadness;
Her earth will weep her some dewy tears;
The wild beck ends her tune of gladness,
And goeth stilly as soul that fears.

We two walk on in our grassy places,
On either marge of the moonlit flood,
With the moon's own sadness in our faces,
Where joy is withered, blossom and bud.

VI.

A shady freshness, chafers whirring,
A little piping of leaf-hid birds;

A flutter of wings, a fitful stirring,

A cloud to the eastward snowy as curds.

Bare grassy slopes, where the kids are tethered Round valleys like nests all ferny-lined; Round hills, with fluttering tree-tops feathered, Swell high in their freckled robes behind.

A rose-flush tender, a thrill, a quiver,
When golden gleams to the tree-tops glide;
A flashing edge for the milk-white river,

The beck, a river, - with still sleek tide.

Broad and white, and polished as silver,

On she goes under fruit-laden trees;
Sunk in leafage cooeth the culver,
And 'plaineth of love's disloyalties.

Glitters the dew, and shines the river ;
Up comes the lily and dries her bell;
But two are walking apart forever,

And wave their hands for a mute farewell.

VII.

A braver swell, a swifter sliding;
The river hasteth, her banks recede;
Wing-like sails on her bosom gliding
Bear down the lily and drown the reed.

Stately prows are rising and bowing -
(Shouts of mariners winnow the air)
And level sands for banks endowing

The tiny green ribbon that showed so fair.

While, O my heart! as white sails shiver,

And crowds are passing, and banks stretch wide, How hard to follow, with lips that quiver, That moving speck on the far-off side!

Farther, farther I see it know it
My eyes brim over, it melts away :
Only my heart to my heart shall show it,
As I walk desolate day by day.

VIII.

And yet I know past all doubting, truly,—
A knowledge greater than grief can dim-
I know, as he loved, he will love me duly -
Yea, better
e'en better than I love him;

And as I walk by the vast calm river,

The awful river so dread to see,

-

I say, "Thy breadth and thy depth forever

Are bridged by his thoughts that cross to me."

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'VE wandered east, I've wandered west, Through mony a weary way ; But never, never can forget The luve o' life's young day! The fire that 's blawn on Beltane e'en May weel be black 'gin Yule; But blacker fa' awaits the heart Where first fond luve grows cule.

O dear, dear Jeanie Morrison,

The thochts o' bygane years
Still fling their shadows ower my path,
And blind my een wi' tears:
They blind my een wi' saut, saut tears,
And sair and sick I pine,

As memory idly summons up

The blithe blinks o' langsyne.

'T was then we luvit ilk ither weel, "T was then we twa did part;

Sweet time,

sad time! twa bairns at scule,

Twa bairns, and but ae heart!

"T was then we sat on ae laigh bink,

To leir ilk ither lear;

And tones and looks and smiles were shed,

Remembered evermair.

I wonder, Jeanie, aften yet,

When sitting on that bink,

Cheek touchin' cheek, loof locked in loof,
What our wee heads could think.
When baith bent doun ower ae braid

Wi' ae buik on our knee,

Thy lips were on thy lesson, but
My lesson was in thee.

page,

O, mind ye how we hung our heads,
How cheeks brent red wi' shame,
Whene'er the scule-weans, laughin', said
We cleeked thegither hame?

And mind ye o' the Saturdays,

(The scule then skail't at noon,)

When we ran off to speel the braes, —
The broomy braes o' June ?

My head rins round and round about, -
My heart flows like a sea,
As ane by ane the thochts rush back

O' scule-time and o' thee.

O mornin' life! O mornin' luve !

O lichtsome days and lang,

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