And we heard the distant and random gun Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stoneBut we left him alone with his glory! ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. THE POET'S BRIDAL-DAY SONG. OH! my love's like the steadfast sun, Can make my heart or fancy flee, One moment, my sweet wife, from thee. Even while I muse, I see thee sit Ye seem, but of sedater mood; Yet my heart leaps as fond for thee, As when, beneath Arbigland tree, We stay'd and woo'd, and thought the moon Set on the sea an hour too soon, Or linger'd 'mid the falling dew, When looks were fond, and words were few. Though I see smiling at my feet Five sons and one fair daughter sweet, And time and care and birthtime woes Have dimm'd thine eye, and touch'd thy rose, To thee, and thoughts of thee, belong Oh, when more thought we gave, of old, At times there come, as come there ought, And Hope, that decks the peasant's bower, A mother's heart shine in thine eye, And proud resolve and purpose meek Speak of thee more than words can speak. I think this wedded life of mine The best of all things not divine. A WET sheet and a flowing sea, A wind that follows fast, And fills the white and rustling sail, Away the good ship flies, and leaves "Oh for a soft and gentle wind!" I heard a fair one cry; But give to me the snoring breeze, There's tempest in yon hornèd moon, The wind is piping loud, my boys, Our heritage the sea. |