The honeysuckle round the porch has woven its wavy bowers; And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo flowers; And the wild marsh-marigold shines like fire in swamps and hollows gray, And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. The night-winds come and go, mother, upon the meadow grass, And the happy stars above them seem to brighten as they pass; There will not be a drop of rain the whole of the livelong day, And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. All the valley, mother, 'ill be fresh and green and still, For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. So you must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear; To-morrow 'ill be the happiest time of all the glad NewYear: To-morrow 'ill be of all the year the maddest, merriest day, For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. If you're waking, call me early, call me early, mother dear, Then you may lay me low i' the mould, and think no more of me. To-night I saw the sun set: he set and left behind The good old year, the dear old time, and all my peace of mind: And the New-Year's coming up, mother, but I shall never see The blossom on the blackthorn, the leaf upon the tree. Last May we made a crown of flowers: we had a merry day; Beneath the hawthorn on the green they made me Queen of May; And we danced about the May-pole and in the hazel copse, Till Charles's Wain came out above the tall white chimneytops. There's not a flower on all the hills; the frost is on the pane. I only wish to live till the snowdrops come again; I wish the snow would melt and the sun come out on high; The building rook 'ill caw from the windy tall elm-tree, And the swallow 'ill come back again with summer o'er the wave, But I shall lie alone, mother, within the mouldering grave. When the flowers come again, mother, beneath the waning light, You'll never see me more in the long gray fields at night; When from the dry dark wold the summer airs blow cool On the oat-grass, and the sword-grass, and the bulrush in the pool. You'll bury me, my mother, just beneath the hawthorn shade, And you'll come sometimes and see me where I am lowly laid. I shall not forget you, mother, I shall hear you when you pass, With your feet above my head in the long and pleasant grass. I have been wild and wayward, but you'll forgive me now; You'll kiss me, my own mother, and forgive me ere I go: Nay, nay, you must not weep, nor let your grief be wild, You should not fret for me, mother, you have another child. If I can I'll come again, mother. from out my resting-place; Though you'll not see me, mother, I shall look upon your face; Though I cannot speak a word, I shall hearken what you say, And be often, often with you when you think I'm far away. Good-night, good-night; when I have said good-night for evermore, And you see me carried out from the threshold of the door, Don't let Effie come to see me till my grave be growing green: She'll be a better child to you than ever I have been. She'll find my garden tools upon the granary floor: Let her take 'em, they are hers; I shall never garden more; But tell her, when I'm gone, to train the rose-bush that I set About the parlor-window, and the box of mignonette. Good-night, sweet mother; call me before the day is born. But I would see the sun rise upon the glad New-Year, I thought to pass away before, and yet alive I am; And sweet is all the land about, and all the flowers that blow, And sweeter far is death than life to me that long to go. It seemed so hard at first, mother, to leave the blessed sun, And now it seems as hard to stay; and yet, His will be done! But still I think it can't be long before I find release; peace. Oh, blessings on his kindly voice, and on his silver hair! And blessings on his whole life long, until he meet me there! Oh, blessings on his kindly heart, and on his silver head! A thousand times I blest him, as he knelt beside my bed. He taught me all the mercy, for he showed me all the sin; Now, though my lamp was lighted late, there's One will let me in; Nor would I now be well, mother, again, if that could be, For my desire is but to pass to Him that died for me. I did not hear the dog howl, mother, or the death watch beat, There came a sweeter token when the night and morning meet. But sit beside my bed, mother, and put your hand in mine, And Effie on the other side, and I will tell the sign. All in the wild March morning I heard the angels call; The trees began to whisper, and the wind began to roll, And up the valley came a swell of music on the wind. I thought that it was fancy, and I listened in my bed, And then did something speak to me,-I know not what was said; For great delight and shuddering took hold of all my mind, And up the valley came again the music on the wind. But you were sleeping; and I said, "It's not for them; it's mine." And if it comes three times, I thought, I take it for a sign. So now I think my time is near: I trust it is. I know Oh, look! the sun begins to rise, the heavens are in a glow; Wild flowers in the valley for other hands than mine. Oh, sweet and strange it seems to me, that ere this day is done, The voice, that now is speaking, may be beyond the sun, Forever and forever with those just souls and true And what is life, that we should moan? why make we such ado? Forever and forever, all in a blessed home! And there to wait a little while till you and Effie come; TUBAL-CAIN.-CHARLES MACKAY. Tubal-cain, an instructor of every artificer in brass and iron." Gen. IV, 22 Old Tubal-cain was a man of might In the days when the earth was young; By the fierce red light of his furnace bright, The strokes of his hammer rung; And he lifted high his brawny hand On the iron glowing clear, Till the sparks rushed out in scarlet showers As he fashioned the sword and spear. And he sang, "Hurrah for my handiwork! Hurrah for the spear and sword! Hurrah for the hand that shall wield them well! For he shall be king and lord." To Tubal-cain came many a one, As he wrought by his roaring fire, And each one prayed for a strong steel blade, As the crown of his desire; And he made them weapons sharp and strong, And gave him gifts of pearls and gold, And spoils of forest, free. And they sang, “Hurrah for Tubal-cain, Who hath given us strength anew! Hurrah for the smith! hurrah for the fire And hurrah for the metal true!" But a sudden change came o'er his heart Ere the setting of the sun, And Tubal-cain was filled with pain For the evil he had done. He saw that men, with rage and hate, Made war upon their kind; That the land was red with blood they shed In their lust for carnage blind. And he said, "Alas, that ever I made, Or that skill of mine should plan The spear and the sword, for men whose joy |