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O, wae's me for the hour, Willie,
When we thegither met,
O, wae's me for the time, Willie,
That our first tryst was set!
O, wae's me for the loanin' green
Where we were wont to gae,
And wae's me for the destinie

That gart me luve thee sae!

O, dinna mind my words, Willie,
I downa seek to blame;

But O, it's hard to live, Willie,

And dree a warld's shame!
Het tears are hailin' ower your cheek,
And hailin' ower your chin:
Why weep ye sae for worthlessness,
For sorrow, and for sin?

I'm weary o' this warld, Willie,
And sick wi' a' I see,

I canna live as I ha'e lived,

Or be as I should be.

But fauld unto your heart, Willie,

The heart that still is thine,

And kiss ance mair the white, white cheek
Ye said was red langsyne.

A stoun' gaes through my heid, Willie,
A sair stoun' through my heart;

O, haud me up and let me kiss

Thy brow ere we twa pairt.

Anither, and anither yet!

How fast my life-strings break!

Fareweel fareweel! through yon kirk-yard

Step lichtly for my sake!

The lav'rock in the lift, Willie,
That lilts far ower our heid,
Will sing the morn as merrilie

Abune the clay-cauld deid;

And this green turf we 're sittin' on,
Wi' dew-draps shimmerin' sheen,
Will hap the heart that luvit thee
As warld has seldom seen.

But O, remember me, Willie,

On land where'er

ye

be;

And O, think on the leal, leal heart,
That ne'er luvit ane but thee !

And O, think on the cauld, cauld mools
That file my yellow hair,

That kiss the cheek, and kiss the chin
Ye never sall kiss mair!

WILLIAM MOTHERWELL.

A WOMAN'S LOVE.

A SENTINEL angel, sitting high in glory, Heard this shrill wail ring out from Purgatory: "Have mercy, mighty angel, hear my story!

"I loved, and, blind with passionate love, I fell.

Love brought me down to death, and death to Hell;

For God is just, and death for sin is well.

"I do not rage against his high decree, Nor for myself do ask that grace shall be ; But for my love on earth who mourns for me.

"Great Spirit! Let me see my love again And comfort him one hour, and I were fain To pay a thousand years of fire and pain."

Then said the pitying angel, "Nay, repent
That wild vow! Look, the dial-finger 's bent
Down to the last hour of thy punishment!"

But still she wailed, "I pray thee, let me go!
I cannot rise to peace and leave him so.
O, let me soothe him in his bitter woe!'

The brazen gates ground sullenly ajar, And upward, joyous, like a rising star, She rose and vanished in the ether far.

But soon adown the dying sunset sailing,
And like a wounded bird her pinions trailing,
She fluttered back, with broken-hearted wailing.

She sobbed, "I found him by the summer sea
Reclined, his head upon a maiden's knee,
She curled his hair and kissed him. Woe is me!"

She wept, "Now let my punishment begin!
I have been fond and foolish. Let me in

To expiate my sorrow and my sin."

The angel answered, Nay, sad soul, go higher!
To be deceived in your true heart's desire
Was bitterer than a thousand years of fire!

JOHN HAY,

DEATH AND THE YOUTH. "Not yet, the flowers are in my path, The sun is in the sky;

Not yet, my heart is full of hope,
I cannot bear to die.

"Not yet, I never knew till now How precious life could be; My heart is full of love, O Death! I cannot come with thee!

But Love and Hope, enchanted twain,
Passed in their falsehood by;
Death came again, and then he said,
"I'm ready now to die!"

LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON.

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BEREAVEMENT AND DEATH.

RESIGNATION.

But a fair maiden, in her Father's mansion,
Clothed with celestial grace;

THERE is no flock, however watched and tended, And beautiful with all the soul's expansion But one dead lamb is there!

There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended,

But has one vacant chair!

The air is full of farewells to the dying,
And mournings for the dead;

The heart of Rachel, for her children crying,
Will not be comforted!

Let us be patient! These severe afflictions
Not from the ground arise,

But oftentimes celestial benedictions
Assume this dark disguise.

We see but dimly through the mists and vapors;
Amid these earthly damps

What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers

May be heaven's distant lamps.

Shall we behold her face.

And though, at times, impetuous with emotion
And anguish long suppressed,

The swelling heart heaves moaning like the ocean,
That cannot be at rest,

We will be patient, and assuage the feeling
We may not wholly stay;

By silence sanctifying, not concealing,
The grief that must have way.

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.

BURIED TO-DAY.

BURIED to-day.

When the soft green buds are bursting out,
And up on the south-wind comes a shout

There is no Death! What seems so is transition: Of village boys and girls at play

This life of mortal breath

Is but a suburb of the life elysian,
Whose portal we call Death.

She is not dead, - the child of our affection,
But gone unto that school

Where she no longer needs our poor protection,
And Christ himself doth rule.

In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion,
By guardian angels led,

Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution,
She lives whom we call dead.

Day after day we think what she is doing
In those bright realms of air;
Year after year, her tender steps pursuing,
Behold her grown more fair.

Thus do we walk with her, and keep unbroken
The bond which nature gives,

Thinking that our remembrance, though un

spoken,

May reach her where she lives.

Not as a child shall we again behold her;
For when with raptures wild

In our embraces we again enfold her,
She will not be a child:

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Ghost-like I paced round the haunts of my child- O Father of eternal life, and all

hood,

Earth seemed a desert I was bound to traverse, Seeking to find the old familiar faces.

Created glories under thee!

Resume thy spirit from this world of thrall

Into true liberty.

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