SOFTLY WOO AWAY HER BREATH. In the wide snow-desert, far and grand, With his cap on his head and the reins in his hand The dog with his nose on his master's feet, And the mare half seen through the crusted sleet, Where she lay when she floundered down. CHARLES G. EASTMAN. THE HUNTER'S VISION. UPON a rock that, high and sheer, Rose from the mountain's breast, A weary hunter of the deer Had sat him down to rest, And bared to the soft summer air His hot red brow and sweaty hair. All dim in haze the mountains lay, With dimmer vales between; And rivers glimmered on their way, By forests faintly seen; While ever rose a murmuring sound, From brooks below and bees around. 489 Groves freshened as he looked, and flowers And friends, the dead, in boyhood dear, A fair young girl, the hamlet's pride- Bounding, as was her wont, she came Forward he leaned—and headlong down A frightful instant, and no more; SOFTLY WOO AWAY HER BREATH. SOFTLY WOO away her breath, Let her leave thee with no strife, She hath had her bud and blossom; Now she pales and shrinks away, Earth, into thy gentle bosom! She hath done her bidding here, Bear her perfect soul above, Seraph of the skies-sweet Love! Good she was, and fair in youth; And her mind was seen to soar, And her heart was wed to truth: Take her, then, for evermoreFor ever-evermore! BARRY CORNWALL He thought I was a ghost, mother, for I was All the valley, mother, 'ill be fresh and green all in white; and still, And I ran by him without speaking, like a And the cowslip and the crowfoot are over all the hill, flash of light. To-morrow 'ill be of all the year the maddest, The building rook 'ill caw from the windy tall merriest day, For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, NEW YEAR'S EVE. elm-tree, And the tufted plover pipe along the fallow lea, And the swallow 'ill come back again with summer o'er the wave, But I shall lie alone, mother, within the mouldering grave. To-night I saw the sun set-he set and left When the flowers come again, mother, bebehind neath the waning light The good old year, the dear old time, and all You'll never see me more in the long gray my peace of mind; fields at night; And the New-year's coming up, inother; but When from the dry dark wold the summer airs blow cool I shall never see The blossom on the blackthorn, the leaf upon | On the oat-grass and the sword-grass, and the the tree. bulrush in the pool. Last May we made a crown of flowers; we You'll bury me, my mother, just beneath the had a merry dayhawthorn shade, Beneath the hawthorn on the green they And you'll come sometimes and see me where made me Queen of May; I am lowly laid. And we danced about the May-pole and in I shall not forget you, mother; I shall hear you when you pass, Till Charles's Wain came out above the tall With your feet above my head in the long the hazel copse, white chimney-tops. and pleasant grass. IX. I have been wild and wayward, but you'll forgive me now; CONCLUSION, I. You'll kiss me, my own mother, upon my I THOUGHT to pass away before, and yet alive cheek and brow; I am; of the lamb. Nay, nay, you must not weep, nor let your And in the fields all round I hear the bleating grief be wild; You should not fret for me, mother-you How sadly, I remember, rose the morning of have another child. X. If I can, I'll come again, mother, from out my resting-place; the year! To die before the snowdrop came, and now the violet's here. II. Though you'll not see me, mother, I shall O sweet is the new violet, that comes beneath Though I cannot speak a word, I shall hearken And sweeter is the young lamb's voice to me that cannot rise; what you say, And be often, often with you when you think And sweet is all the land about, and all the And you see me carried out from the threshold It seemed so hard at first, mother, to leave of the door, the blessed sun, Don't let Effie come to see me till my grave And now it seems as hard to stay; and yet, His will be done! be growing green— She'll be a better child to you than ever I But still I think it can't be long before I find Let her take 'em-they are hers; I shall never O blessings on his kindly voice, and on his garden more. But tell her, when I'm gone, to train the And blessings on his whole life long, until he rose-bush that I set meet me there! About the parlor-window, and the box of O blessings on his kindly heart and on his mignonette. All night I lie awake, but I fall asleep at He showed me all the mercy, for he taught me all the sin; morn; But I would see the sun rise upon the glad Now, though my lamp was lighted late, there's One will let me in. New-yearSo, if you're waking, call me, call me early, Nor would I now be well, mother, again, if mother dear. that could be; For my desire is but to pass to Him that died for me. |