we had a merry day; Beneath the hawthorn on the green they made me Queen of May; The honeysuckle round the porch has | Last May we made a crown of flowers: wov'n its wavy bowers, And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo-flowers; And the wild marsh-marigold shines like fire in swamps and hollows gray, And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. The night-winds come and go, mother, There will not be a drop of rain the whole And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, All the valley, mother, 'ill be fresh and green and still, And the cowslip and the crowfoot are And the rivulet in the flowery dale 'ill So you must wake and call me early, call To-morrow 'ill be the happiest time of all NEW-YEAR'S EVE. IF you're waking call me early, call me early, mother dear, For I would see the sun rise upon the glad New-year. It is the last New-year that I shall ever see, Then you may lay me low i' the mould and think no more of me. To-night I saw the sun set: he set and left behind The good old year, the dear old time, And the New-year's coming up, mother, And we danced about the may-pole and in the hazel copse, Till Charles's Wain came out above the tall white chimney-tops. There's not a flower on all the hills: the frost is on the pane : I only wish to live till the snowdrops come again : I wish the snow would melt and the sun come out on high: I long to see a flower so before the day I die. The building rook 'ill caw from the windy tall elm-tree, And the tufted plover pipe along the And the swallow 'ill come back again Upon the chancel-casement, and upon In the early early morning the summer sun 'ill shine, Before the red cock crows from the farm upon the hill, When you are warm-asleep, mother, and all the world is still. Nay, nay, you must not weep, nor let | And sweet is all the land abcut, and all your grief be wild, the flowers that blow, You should not fret for me, mother, you And sweeter far is death than life to me have another child. Good-night, good-night, when I have said good-night for evermore, And you see me carried out from the threshold of the door; Don't let Effie come to see me till my grave be growing green: that long to go. blessings on his whole life long, until he meet me there! O blessings on his kindly heart and on his silver head! She'll be a better child to you than A thousand times I blest him, as he ever I have been. knelt beside my bed. He taught me all the mercy, for he show'd me all the sin. Now, tho' my lamp was lighted late, there's One will let me in: Nor would I now be well, mother, again, if that could be, For my desire is but to pass to Him that died for me. I did not hear the dog howl, mother, or the death-watch beat, There came a sweeter token when the night and morning meet: But sit beside my bed, mother, and put your hand in mine, And Effie on the other side, and I will tell the sign. All in the wild March-morning I heard the angels call; It was when the moon was setting, and the dark was over all; The trees began to whisper, and the wind began to roll, And in the wild March-morning I heard them call my soul. For lying broad awake I thought of you and Effie dear; I saw you sitting in the house, and I no longer here; With all my strength I pray'd for both, and so I felt resign'd, And up the valley came a swell of music on the wind. I thought that it was fancy, and I listen'd | To lie within the light of God, as I lie in my bed, And then did something speak to me I know not what was said; For great delight and shuddering took hold of all my mind, And up the valley came again the music on the wind. And to-day. upon your breastthe wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest. he said, and pointed toward the land, "This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon." In the afternoon they came unto a land, All round the coast the languid air did In which it seemed always afternoon. swoon, Breathing like one that hath a weary dream. Full-faced above the valley stood the moon; And like a downward smoke, the slender stream But, Effie, you must comfort her when I Along the cliff to fall and pause and fall am past away. did seem. And make perpetual moan, Nor steep our brows in slumber's holy Nor harken what the inner spirit sings, III. Lo! in the middle of the wood, care, Sun-steep'd at noon, and in the moon Lo! sweeten'd with the summer light, Drops in a silent autumn night. The flower ripens in its place, Which will not leave the myrrh-bush on To hear each other's whisper'd speech; To watch the crisping ripples on the beach, To the influence of mild-minded melan- To muse and brood and live again in With those old faces of our infancy VI. Dear is the memory of our wedded lives, For surely now our household hearths Our sons inherit us: our looks are strange: And we should come like ghosts to trouble joy. Ripens and fades, and falls, and hath no Or else the island princes over-bold toil, Fast-rooted in the fruitful soil. IV. Hateful is the dark-blue sky, There is confusion worse than death, Let us alone. Time driveth onward fast,'T is hard to settle order once again. the grave In silence; ripen, fall and cease: V. wars And eyes grown dim with gazing on the pilot-stars. VII. But, propt on beds of amaranth and moly, With half-dropt eyelids still, How sweet it were, hearing the downward To watch the long bright river drawing |