TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY

They lighted a great torch then,

When his arms were pinioned fast; Sir John, the Knight of the Fen,

Sir Guy of the Dolorous Blast, With knights threescore and ten, Hung brave Sir Hugh at last.

I am threescore and ten,

And my hair is all turned gray,
But I met Sir John of the Fen
Long ago on a summer day,

And am glad to think of the moment when
I took his life away.

I am threescore and ten,

And my strength is mostly passed,

But long ago I and my men,

When the sky was overcast,

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And the smoke rolled over the reeds of the fen, Slew Sir Guy of the Dolorous Blast.

And now, knights, all of you,
I pray you, pray for Sir Hugh,
A good knight and a true,
And for Alice, his wife, pray too.

William Morris.

TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY

WEE, modest, crimson-tippèd flower,
Thou's met me in an evil hour;

For I maun crush amang the stour
Thy slender stem;

To spare thee now is past my power,
Thou bonnie gem.

Alas! it's no thy neebor sweet,
The bonnie lark, companion meet!
Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet
Wi' spreckled breast,

When upward springing, blythe, to greet
The purpling east.

Cauld blew the bitter-biting north
Upon thy early, humble birth;
Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth
Amid the storm;

Scarce reared above the parent earth
Thy tender form.

The flaunting flowers our gardens yield
High sheltering woods and wa's maun shield,
But thou beneath the random bield

O' clod or stane

Adorns the histie stibble-field,
Unseen, alane.

There, in thy scanty mantle clad,
Thy snawy bosom sunward spread,
Thou lifts thy unassuming head
In humble guise;

But now the share uptears thy bed,
And low thou lies!

Robert Burns.

THE FAIRIES OF THE CALDON LOW

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THE LAMB

LITTLE Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee,
Gave thee life, and bid thee feed
By the stream and o'er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing, woolly, bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice
Making all the vales rejoice;

Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?

Little Lamb, I'll tell thee;

Little Lamb, I'll tell thee.
He is called by thy name,
For He calls himself a Lamb:-
He is meek and He is mild;
He became a little child.
I a child, and thou a lamb,
We are called by his name.
Little Lamb, God bless thee;
Little Lamb, God bless thee.

William Blake.

THE FAIRIES OF THE CALDON LOW

A MIDSUMMER LEGEND.

"AND where have you been, my Mary,

And where have you been from me?"

"I have been to the top of the Caldon Low, The midsummer night to see."

"And what did you see, my Mary,
All up on the Caldon Low?
"I saw the glad sunshine come down,
And I saw the merry winds blow."

"And what did you hear, my Mary,
All up on the Caldon Hill?"
"I heard the drops of the water made,
And the ears of the green corn fill."

"Oh, tell me all, my Mary, -
All, all that ever you know;
For you must have seen the fairies
Last night, on the Caldon Low."

"Then take me on your knee, mother;
And listen, mother of mine:

A hundred fairies danced last night,
And the harpers they were nine.

"And their harpstrings rung so merrily
To their dancing feet so small;
But oh, the words of their talking
Were merrier far than all."

"And what were the words, my Mary,

That then you heard them say?"

"I'll tell you all, my mother;

But let me have my way.

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"Some of them played with the water,

And rolled it down the hill;

And this,' they said, 'shall speedily turn
The poor old miller's mill,

"For there has been no water

Ever since the first of May; And a busy man will the miller be At dawning of the day.

"Oh, the miller, how he will laugh
When he sees the milldam rise!

The jolly old miller, how he will laugh
Till the tears fill both his eyes!'

"And some they seized the little winds
That sounded over the hill;

And each put a horn into his mouth,
And blew both loud and shrill.

"And there,' they said, 'the merry winds go Away from every horn;

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And they shall clear the mildew dark
From the blind old widow's corn.

'Oh, the

poor, blind widow,

Though she has been blind so long,

She'll be blithe enough when the mildew's gone, And the corn stands tall and strong.'

"And some they brought the brown lint-seed, And flung it down from the Low;