She lies upon her pillow, pale, How gentle and how good a child We love, we watch throughout the night Send down thy sweet-souled angel, God! Amid the darkness wild, And bid him soothe our souls to-night, And heal our gentle child! RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES (LORD HOUGHTON). THE BROOKSIDE. I WANDERED by the brookside, I could not hear the brook flow, - But the beating of my own heart I sat beneath the elm-tree; He came not, no, he came not, - The evening wind passed by my cheek, I KNOW not that the men of old Of heart more kind, of hand more bold, I heed not those who pine for force As if they thus could check the course Still is it true and over-true, With rights, though not too closely scanned, Enjoyed as far as known,- They from to-day and from to-night To them was life a simple art A game where each man took his part, Man now his virtue's diadem "Among a thousand maids," I cried, "There is not such another!" I wandered to my scholar's home, I laid me down upon my bed, My heart with sadness laden; I dreamed but of the mountain wold, And of the mountain maiden. I saw her of the ancient book I saw her lovely crimson cheek, The dream was like the day's delight, I rose, and with unwonted care, To none I told my secret thoughts, Nor to the friend who, from my youth, I got me to the hills again; The little flock was feeding: And there young Tibbie Inglis sat, But not the old book reading. She sat as if absorbing thought With heavy spells had bound her, As silent as the mossy crags Upon the mountains round her. I thought not of my Sabbath dress; Bonny Tibbie Inglis! How her beauty brightened, Looking at me, half abashed, With eyes that flamed and lightened! There was no sorrow, then I saw, There was no thought of sadness: I sat me down among the crags, I'm just like a lammie that loses its mither; Nae mither or friend the puir lammie can see; I fear I hae tint my puir heart a'thegither, Nae wonder the tear fa's sae fast frae my ee. "Wi' the rest o' my claes I hae rowed up the ribbon, The bonnie blue ribbon that Jamie gae me; Yestreen, when he gae me 't, and saw I was sabbin', I'll never forget the wae blink o' his ee. Though now he said naething but 'Fare ye weel, Lucy!' It made me I neither could speak, hear, nor see: He couldna say mair but just, 'Fare ye weel, Lucy!' Yet that I will mind till the day that I dee." The lamb likes the gowan wi' dew when it's droukit; 183 The hare likes the brake and the braird on the lea; But Lucy likes Jamie;- she turned and she lookit, She thocht the dear place she wad never mair see. Ah, weel may young Jamie gang dowie and cheerless! And weel may he greet on the bank o' the burn! For bonnie sweet Lucy, sae gentle and peerless, Lies cauld in her grave, and will never return! UNKNOWN. SUMMER DAYS. IN summer, when the days were long, We walked together in the wood; Our heart was light, our step was strong, Sweet flutterings were in our blood, In summer, when the days were long. We strayed from morn till evening came; We gathered flowers, and wove crowns; us We walked mid poppies red as flame, Or sat upon the yellow downs; And always wished our life the same. In summer, when the days were long, We leaped the hedge-row, crossed the brook; And still her voice flowed forth in song, Or else she read some graceful book, In summer, when the days were long. And then we sat beneath the trees, With shadows lessening in the noon; And in the sunlight and the breeze We feasted, many a gorgeous June, While larks were singing o'er the leas. In summer, when the days were long, On dainty chicken, snow-white bread, We feasted, with no grace but song; We plucked wild strawberries, ripe and red, In summer, when the days were long. We loved, and yet we knew it not, For loving seemed like breathing then; |