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“ Thou know'st that twice a-day, I have brought thee

in this can Fresh water from the brook, as clear as ever ran; And twice in the day, when the ground is wet with

dew, I bring thee draughts of milk, warm milk it is and


" Thy limbs will shortly be twice as stout as they are

now, Then I'll yoke thee to my cart, like a pony in the

plough; My playmate thou shalt be; and when the wind is

cold, Our hearth shall be thy bed, our house shall be thy


“It will not, will not rest 1-Poor creature, can it be That 't is thy mother's heart that is working so in thee? Things that I know not of, belike to thee are dear, And dreams of things which thou canst neither see

nor hear.

“Alas, the mountain tops, that look so green and fair! I've heard of fearful winds and darkness that come

there; The little brooks that seem all pastime and all play, When they are angry, roar like lions for their prey.



“ Here thou need'st not dread the raven in the sky; Night and day thou art safe,-our cottage is hard by. Why bleat so after me? why pull so at thy chain ? Sleep—and at break of day I will come to thee


-As homeward through the lane I went with lazy

feet, This song to myself did I oftentimes repeat: And it seemed, as I retraced the ballad line by line, That but half of it was hers, and one half of it was


Again, and once again, did I repeat the song; “Nay,” said I,“ more than half to the damsel must

belong, For she looked with such a look, and she spake with

such a tone, That I almost received her heart into my own.'

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THERE were blithe times with us when the summer

bad come,

With the nightingale's song, and the honey-bees' hum,
With lilies and roses, and long sunny hours,
And holiday goings to gather wild flowers.

We went all together one bright afternoon,
When warm on the woods lay the sun-light of June,
And up in the sky was a blueness as clear
As if not a cloud had been there all the year.

Old grandmother went with her staff in her hand, She said, “ To see summer once more in the land; While good Uncle William walked cheerfully by, And we had such baskets !--my sister and I.

'T was sweet in the meadows, 't was sweet in the

woods, And great was our gathering of blossoms and buds, By the banks of bright streams, by the roots of old

trees, Where nestled the wild birds and feasted the bees.

Then home with light hearts and full baskets we

sped, When sunset was tinging the old church with red, But paused at our gate to look back on the view, How rich in the gold of the evening it grew.

And grandmother said, as she gazed on the sky,
With thoughts of her seventy long summers gone by:
“What glory must gladden that good land of ours,
When this earth is so fair in the time of wild-


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