Girls and Gladness

UNDER MY WINDOW

Under my window, under my window,
All in the Midsummer weather,
Three little girls with fluttering curls
Flit to and fro together: -

There's Bell with her bonnet of satin sheen,
And Maud with her mantle of silver-green,
And Kate with her scarlet feather.

Under my window, under my window,
Leaning stealthily over,

Merry and clear, the voice I hear,

Of each glad-hearted rover.

Ah! sly little Kate, she steals my roses; And Maud and Bell twine wreaths and posies,

As merry as bees in clover.

Under my window, under my window,
In the blue Midsummer weather,
Stealing slow, on a hushed tiptoe,
I catch them all together: -
Bell with her bonnet of satin sheen,
And Maud with her mantle of silver-green,
And Kate with the scarlet feather.

Under my window, under my window,
And off through the orchard closes;
While Maud she flouts, and Bell she pouts,
They scamper and drop their posies;
But dear little Kate takes naught amiss,
And leaps in my arms with a loving kiss,
And I give her all my roses.

Thomas Westwood.

THE LAUGHERS

Mary and Maud have met at the door!
Oh, now for a din; I told you so:

They 're laughing at once with sweet, round

Is it known to the bird in the cage,

That shrieketh for joy his high top notes After a silence so long and grave,

What started at once those two sweet throats?

Is it known to the Wind that he takes

.

Advantage at once and comes right in?

Is it known to the cock in the yard

That crows the cause of that merry din?

Is it known to the babe that he shouts?
Is it known to the old purring cat?
Is it known to the dog, that he barks
For joy what Mary and Maud laugh at?

Is it known to themselves? It is not,
But beware of their great shining eyes;
For Mary and Maud will soon, I swear,
Find cause to make far merrier cries.

TO VIOLA HER GLEE

'Tis many a sunny-hearted girl
Has lit her smile for me,
With dancing eyes and teeth of pearl
A-sparkle with her glee;
And many a merry-visaged maid
Has laughed for me to hear,
As golden bells on silver braid
By summer zephyrs gently swayed
Were tinkling on my ear.

But Viola has such a lip

That, when its corners lift,

Bright blossoms that the brown bees sip Across my vision shift;

And when her laughter rings and chimes
And twinkles like a star,

She makes me think of fairer climes,
Of brighter hours, and happier times
Than all the girls that are.

For Viola has pleasant ways,

Though skies be sad and drear;
There's not a cloud so black can daze
Her simple, radiant cheer;

When she seems grave she 's merrier
Than maids who laugh "Aha!"-
When she is gay naught 's winsomer
Than the delightful mirth of her

Who is my Viola!

John Jarvis Holden.