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And in blossomed vale and grove
Every shepherd knelt to love.
Then a rosy, dimpled cheek,
And a blue eye, fond and meek;
And a ringlet-wreathen brow,
Like hyacinths on a bed of snow:
And a low voice, silver sweet,
From a lip without deceit;
Only these the hearts could move
Of the simple swains to love.

But that time is gone and past, Can the summer always last? And the swains are wiser grown, And the heart is turned to stone,

And the maiden's rose may wither;
Cupid's filed, no man knows whither
But another Cupid's come,
With a brow of care and gloom:
Fixed upon the earthly mould,
Thinking of the sullen gold;
In his hand the bow no more,
At his back the household store,
That the bridal gold must buy:
Useless now the smile and sigh;
But he wears the pinion still,
Flying at the sight of ill.

Oh, for the old true-love time,
When the world was in its prime!

JOHN CROWNE.

WISHES FOR OBSCURITY.

How miserable a thing is a great Oh, wretched he who, called abroad

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THOU HAST SWORN BY THY GOD. Then foul fa' the hands that wad

THOU hast sworn by thy God, my

Jeanie,

By that pretty white hand o' thine, And by a' the lowing stars in heaven, That thou wad aye be mine; And I hae sworn by my God, my Jeanie,

And by that kind heart o' thine, By a' the stars sown thick owre heaven,

That thou shalt aye be mine.

loose sic bands,

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Her white arm wad be a pillow for me
Far safter than the down;

And luve wad winnow owre us his

kind, kind wings,

An' sweetly I'd sleep, an' soun'. Come here to me, thou lass o' my luve,

Come here, and kneel wi' me!
The morn is fu' o' the presence o'
God,

An' I canna pray without thee.

The morn-wind is sweet 'mang the beds o' new flowers,

The wee birds sing kindlie an' hie; Our gudeman leans owre his kaleyard dyke,

And a blithe auld bodie is he.
The beuk maun be taen when the

carle comes hame,

Wi' the holie psalmodie;

Fu' soon I'll follow thee, my lassie,
Fu' soon I'll follow thee;
Thou left me naught to covet ahin'
But took gudeness sel' wi' thee.

I looked on thy death-cold face, my lassie,

I looked on thy death-cold face; Thou seemed a lily new cut i' the bud, An' fading in its place.

I looked on thy death-shut eye, my lassie,

I looked on thy death-shut eye; An' a lovelier light in the brow o' heaven

Fell time shall ne'er destroy.

Thy lips were ruddy and calm, my lassie,

Thy lips were ruddy and calm;

And thou maun speak o' me to thy But gane was the holy breath o' heav

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She's gane to dwall in heaven:

en,

To sing the evening psalm.

There's naught but dust now mine,

lassie,

There's naught but dust now mine; My saul's wi' thee i' the cauld grave, An' why should I stay behin'?

Ye're owre pure, quo' the voice o' God, A WET SHEET AND A FLOWING For dwalling out o' heaven!

SEA.

O, what'll she do in heaven, my las- A WET sheet and a flowing sea,
sie ?

O, what'll she do in heaven?
She'll mix her ain thoughts wi' an-

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A wind that follows fast,
And fills the white and rustling sail,

And bends the gallant mast
And bends the gallant mast, my boys,
While, like the eagle free,
Away the good ship flies, and leaves
Old England on our lee.

"O for a soft and gentle wind!"

I heard a fair one cry;
But give to me the swelling breeze,

And white waves heaving high,-
The white waves heaving high, my

lads,

The good ship tight and free; The world of waters is our home, And merry men are we.

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For full communion; nor sensations, strong,

Within the breast, their prison, strive

in vain

To be set free, and meet their kind in joy.

Changed to celestials, thoughts that rise in each

By natures new, impart themselves, though silent.

Each quickening sense, each throb of holy love, Affections sanctified, and the full glow [one, Of being, which expand and gladden By union all mysterious, thrill and live

In both immortal frames;-sensation all,

And thought, pervading, mingling sense and thought!

Ye paired, yet one! wrapt in a consciousness Twofold, yet single, this is love, this life!

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And earth seem bare, and hours, once happy, press

Upon thy thoughts, and make thy loneliness

More lonely for the past, thou then shalt hear

The

music of those waters ranning near;

And thy faint spirit drink the cooling stream,

And thine eye gladden with the playing beam

That now upon the water dances, now Leaps up and dances in the hanging bough.

Is it not lovely? Tell me, where doth dwell

The power that wrought so beautiful a spell?

In thine own bosom, brother? Then as thine

Guard with a reverent fear this power divine.

And if, indeed, 't is not the outward state,

But temper of the soul by which we rate

Sadness or joy, even let thy bosom

move

With noble thoughts and wake thee into love;

And let each feeling in thy breast be given

An honest aim, which, sanctified by Heaven,

And springing into act, new life imparts,

Till beats thy frame as with a thousand hearts.

Sin clouds the mind's clear vision

from its birth,

Around the self-starved soul has spread a dearth.

The earth is full of life; the living Hand

Touched it with life; and all its forms expand

With principles of being made to suit Man's varied powers and raise him from the brute.

And shall the earth of higher ends be full,

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