THE BABY.

O LASSIE AYONT THE HILL.

dear?

Come ower the tap o' the hill,
Or roun' the neuk o' the hill,
For I want ye sair the nicht,
I'm needin' ye sair the nicht,
For I'm tired and sick o' mysel',
A body's sel''s the sairest weicht,--
O lassie, come ower the hill!

Gin a body could be a thocht o' grace, And no a sel' ava!

I'm sick o' my heid, and my han's and my face,

I'm sick o' the warl' and a';
An' my thochts and mysel' and a';
The licht gangs by wi' a hiss;
For thro' my een the sunbeams fa',
O lassie ayont the hill!
But my weary heart they miss.
Come ower the tap o' the hill,
Or roun' the neuk o' the hill;
Bidena ayont the hill!

For gin ance I saw yer bonnie heid,
And the sunlicht o' yer hair,
The ghaist o' mysel' wad fa' doun
deid;

I wad be mysel' nae mair.
I wad be mysel' nae mair.
Filled o' the sole remeid;
Slain by the arrows o' licht frae yer
hair,

Killed by yer body and heid.
O lassie ayont the hill, etc.

But gin ye lo'ed me ever sae sma', For the sake o' my bonnie dame, Whan I cam' to life, as she gaed awa',

I could bide my body and name, I micht bide by mysel, the weary same;

Aye setting up its heid Till I turn frae the claes that cover my frame,

As gin they war roun' the deid.
O lassie ayont the hill, etc.

THE HELIOTROPE.

SOMEWHERE 'tis told that in an Eastern land,

Clasped in the dull palm of a mummy's hand,

A few light seeds were found; with wondering eyes

And words of awe was lifted up the prize.

And much they marvelled what could be so dear

Of herb or flower as to be treasured here;

What sacred vow had made the dying keep

So close this token for his last, long sleep.

None ever knew, but in the fresh, warm earth

The cherished seeds sprang to a second birth,