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Bonnie Wee Thing.

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ONNIE wee thing! cannie wee thing!

Lovely wee thing! wert thou mine, I wad wear thee in my bosom,

Lest my jewel I should tine.
Wistfully I look and languish,

In that bonnie face o' thine;
And my heart it stounds wi' anguish,

Lest my wee thing be na' mine.

Wit and grace, and love and beauty,

In ae constellation shine; To adore thee is my duty,

Goddess o' this soul o' mine!
Bonnie wee thing, cannie wee thing,

Lovely wee thing, wert thou mine,
I wad wear thee in my bosom,
Lest my jewel I should tine.

- Robert Burns.

Love and Time.

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But though the old man needeth food,

There's nothing here that he can eat. His taste is strange, he eats alone,

Beneath some ruined cloister cope, Or on some tottering turret's stone,

While I can only live on-hope ! A week ago, ere you were wed

It was the very night beforeUpon so many sweets I fed

While passing by your mother's doorIt was that dear, delicious hour

When Owen here the nosegay brought, And found you in the woodbine bower

Since then, indeed, I've needed naught.”

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RAWN out, like lingering bees, to share

The last sweet summer weather,
Beneath the reddening maples walked

Two Puritans together-
A youth and maiden, heeding not

The woods which round them brightened, Just conscious of each other's thoughts,

Half happy, and half frightened. Grave were their brows, and few their words,

And coarse their garb and simple ;
The maiden's very cheek seemed shy

To own its worldly dimple.
For stern the time; they dwelt with Care,

And Fear was oft a comer ;
A sober April ushered in

The Pilgrim's toilful summer.
And stern their creed ; they tarried here

Mere desert-land sojourners :
They must not dream of mirth or rest,

God's humble lesson-learners.

The temple's sacred perfume round

Their week-day robes were clinging ; Their mirth was but the golden bells

On priestly garments ringing. But as to-day they softly talked,

That serious youth and maiden, Their plainest words strange beauty wore,

Like weeds with dewdrops laden. The saddest theme had something sweet,

The gravest, something tender, While with slow steps they wandered on,

'Mid summer's fading splendor. He said, “Next week the church will hold

A day of prayer and fasting ;"
And then he stopped, and bent to pick

A white life-everlasting-
A silvery bloom, with fadeless leaves ;

He gave it to her, sighing ;
A mute confession was his glance,

Her blush, a mute replying.

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Then said the pitying angel, “ Nay, repent
That wild vow! Look, the dial finger's bent
Down to the last hour of thy punishment!”
But still she wailed, “I pray thee let me go !
I cannot rise to peace and leave him so.
Oh, let me soothe him in his bitter woe !"

“Have mercy, mighty angel, hear my story ! “I loved-and blind with passionate love I fell ; Love brought me down to death, and death to Hell ; For God is just, and death for sin is well. “I do not rage against his high decree, Nor for myself do ask that grace shall be ; But for my love on earth who mourns for me. “Great Spirit! Let me see my love again And comfort him one hour, and I were fain To pay a thousand years of fire and pain."

The brazen gates ground sullenly ajar, And upward, joyous, like a rising star, She rose and vanished in the ether far.

But soon adown the dying sunset sailing,
And like a wounded bird her pinions trailing,
She fluttered back, with broken-hearted wailing.

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[From "In a Gondola.''] HE moth's kiss, first!

The bee's kiss, now! | Kiss me as if you made believe

Kiss me as if you entered gay You were not sure, this eve,

My heart at some noonday, How my face, your flower, had purst

A bud that dared not disallow Its petals up; so, here and there

The claim, so all is rendered up, You brush it, till I grow aware

And passively its shattered cup Who wants me, and wide open burst.

Over your head to sleep I bow.

- Robert Browning.

A Maiden's Ideal of a Husband,

ENTEEL in personage,

GEconuet and equipage

Noble by heritage.

Generous and free :
Brave, not romantic ;
Learned, not pedantic ;
Frolic, not frantic;

'This must he be.

Honor maintaining,
Meanness disdaining,
Still entertaining,

Engaging and new.
Neat, but not finical;
Sage but not cynical ;
Never tyrannical,

But ever true.- llenry Carey.

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