« 前へ次へ »
JOHN A. DORG AV.
MARY BOLLES BRANCH.
A little while—and lo! the charm is Down by the brook he bends his steps, heard ;
and through A youth, whose life has been all sum A lowly wicket; and at last he stands
Awful beside the bed of one who grew Forth from the noisy guests around the From boyhood with him, who with board,
lifted hands Creeps by her softly; at her footstool And eyes seems listening to far welcomkneels;
ings And, when she pauses, murmurs tender And sweeter music than the Blackthings
bird sings. Into her fond ear — - while the Blackbird sings.
Two golden stars, like tokens from the
blest, The smoke-wreaths from the chimneys
Strike on his dim orbs from the setcurl up higher,
ting sun; And dizzy things of eve begin to float His sinking hands seem pointing to the Upon the light; the breeze begins to
He smiles as though he said, “Thy Half-way to sunset with a drowsy note
will be done!" The ancient clock from out the valley His eyes, they see not those illuminings; swings;
His ears, they hear not -- what the
Blackbird sings. The grandam nods—and still the Black
bird sings. Far shouts and laughter from the farm
stead peal, Where the great stack is piling in the JOHN A. DORGAN.
sun; Through narrow gates o'erladen wagons
(U. S. A.)
But they shall do my bidding, though The merry tempest --- and the Blackbird
so frail; sings.
These lips are thin and white, but shall
not fail On the high wold the last look of the sun The appointed words to speak. Burns, like a beacon, over dale and stream;
Thy sneer I can forgive, The shouts have ceased, the laughter and Because I know the strength of destiny; the fun;
Until my task is done, I cannot die; The grandam sleeps, and peaceful be And then, I would not live.
her dream; Only a hammer on an anvil rings; The day is dying-still the Blackbird sings.
MARY BOLLES BRANCH. Now the good vicar passes from his gate,
[U. S. A.) Serene, with long white hair; and in
THE PETRIFIED FERN.
In a valley, centuries ago,
Veining delicate and fibres tender; And tender mercies-- while the Black-; Waving when the wind crept down so bird sings.
Rushes tall, and moss, and grass grew Earth, one time, put on a frolic mood, round it,
Heaved the rocks and changed the Playful sunbeams darted in and found mighty motion it,
Of the deep, strong currents of the Drops of dew stole in by night, and
ocean; crowned it,
Moved the plain and shook the haughty But no foot of man e'er trod that wood, way;
Crushed the little fern in soft moist clay, Earth was young and keeping holi Covered it, and hid it safe away. day.
0, the long, long centuries since that
day! Monster fishes swam the silent main, O, the agony, 0, life's bitter cost, Stately forests waved their giant Since that useless little fern was lost!
branches, Mountains hurled their snowy ava- Useless! Lost! There came a thoughtlanches,
ful man Mammoth creatures stalked across the Searching Nature's secrets, far and plain;
deep; Nature revelled in grand mysteries; From a fissure in a rocky steep But the little fern was not of these, He withdrew a stone, o'er which there ran Did not number with the hills and Fairy pencillings, a quaint design, trees,
Veinings, leafage, fibres clear and fine, Only grew and waved its wild sweet And the fern's life lay in every line! way,
So, I think, God hides some souls away No one came to note it day by day. Sweetly to surprise us the last day.
172 Beat on, proud billows; Boreas, blow. 39
Bezone dull care..
Beneath an Indian palm a girl
Beneath the moonlight and the snow
Break, break, break...
Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny bonny bride
306 By the tlow of the inland river............ 326
Can angel spirits need repose.
283 Clear, placid Leman! thy contrasted lake. 126
Close beside the meeting waters
Close his eyes; his work is done!.
Come into the garden, Maud..
Comes somethinx down with eventide. 258
Come to me, dearest, I'm lonely without
Come with a smile, when come thou must. 313
83 Cooper, whose name is with his country's
Could ye come back to mne, Douglas, Doug-
Day-stars! that ope your eyes with morn,
Dear friend of old, whom memory links.... 319
Dear Friend! whose presence in the house 218
Dim as the borrowed beams of moon and
Do not cheat thy heart, and tell her..
Down below, the wild November whist-
Drawn out, like lingering bees, to share..
319 Earl Gawain wooedd the Lady Barhara.. 204
Fair Daffodils, we weep to see
20 How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of
48 How sweet it were, if without feeble fright 144
146 How sweet the harmonies of afternoon! 340
316 I am content, I do not care.....
210 I, country-born an' bred, know where to
21 I do not own an inch of land..
146 If all the world and love were young.
16 If aught of oaten stop or pastoral song...
If love were what the rose is..
the soldiers cried. 263 I found a fellow-worker when I deemed I
89 If stores of dry and learned lore we gain 1.56
71 If with light head erect I sing.
102 I have been out to-day in field and woud.. 236
5 I have had playmates, I have had compan-
79 I know not how to comfort thee
I know not if or dark or bright
109 I loved him not; and yet, now he is gone. 137
221 I love to wander through the woodlands
106 In Athens, when all learning centred there 326
319 I saw a man, by some accounted wise.. 321
I saw two clouds at morning
117 It is a place where poets crowned inay feel
the heart's decaying...
13 It is not growing like a tree.
INDEX OF FIRST LINES.
It lies around us like a cloud
248 ! No stir in the air, no stir in the sea........ 117
290 Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note. 152
67 No! Time, thou shalt not boast that I do
99 Not yet, the flowers are in my path.. 234
321 0, ask not, hope thou not, too much. 154
O fair and stately maid, whose eyes. 199
78 Of all amusements for the mind.
Of this fair volume which we World do
269 O happiness! our being's end and aim :. 48
50 O, heard ye yon pibroch sound sad in the
O Lady, leave thy silken thread
228 | 0, Lady Mary Ann looked o'er the castle
242 O lull me, lull me, charming air.
113 Once this soft turf, this rivulet's sands.... 159
O Saviour! whose mercy, severe in its kind-
320 O, sweet and fair! O, rich and rare! 274
Out of the clover and blue-eyedi grass.. 316
15 Over the mountain wave, see where they
O, weel may the boatie row..
226 C,why should the spirit of mortal be proud: 149