SERENADE.

WOULD not have you wake for me,
Fair lady, though I love you!

And though the night is warm, and all
The stars are out above you;

And though the dew's so light it could

Not hurt your little feet,

And nightingales in yonder wood

Are singing passing sweet.

Yet may my plaintive strain unite
And mingle with your dreaming,
And through the visions of the night
Just interweave my seeming.
Yet no sleep on with fancy free

In that untroubled breast;

No song of mine, no thought of me,
Deserves to break your rest!

B

LOVE'S TRYST.

HEN Spring was young and leaves were

green,

And birds sang in the glade,

My love to me a promise gave,

And I another made,

That when the crimson sun had gone

To rest beyond the sea,

My love and I should meet alone

Beneath the trysting tree;

Down in the dell, love,

By the trysting tree,

Waiting for thee; waiting for thee,

Down in the dell, love,

By the trysting tree :

Watching alone I wait, my love, for thee.

When autumn winds blew wild and cold,

And silent was the glade,

My love to me a promise gave,

And I another made,—

LOVE'S TRYST.

That when our youth had pass'd away

In years that were to be;

In life or death our hearts should meet

Beneath the trysting tree.

Down in the dell, love,

By the trysting tree,

Waiting for thee; waiting for thee,

Down in the dell, love,

By the trysting tree:

3

Watching alone I wait, my love, for thee.

THE SHEPHERD'S PROPOSAL.

HE heather's beginning to bud, lass,
The bracken's a showing its green,
The trout are beginning to leap, lass,
No prettier country you've seen.

The red grouse are choosing their mates, love,

But I am a bachelor still;

Will 'ee come to the heather and furze, lass?

I'll love 'ee so well, if ye will.

Will 'ee come to the heather and furze, lass,
And leave the black smoke of the town?
I have sheep and a cow and a cot, lass,
And I'll buy 'ee a ring and a gown;
And then we'll gang off to the church, lass,
That nestles alongside the hill;

Will 'ee come to the heather and furze, lass?

I'll love 'ee so well if ye will.

CRUEL HOURS.

5

CRUEL HOURS.

T was one day in the summer,

As I linger'd by her side,

That reproachful and complaining,

We did thus the swift hours chide :

"O cruel hours, so quickly flying!

What have we done to frighten you away?
Leave us not here, our happiness denying,
Why will ye go, nor suffer us to stay?"

It was one day in the falling,
When her gentle life had flown,
That, old memories recalling,

I reproach'd the hours, alone:

"O cruel. hours, so slowly creeping,

What have I done to make you linger so?

Why are ye thus me from my darling keeping?

Go faster yet yourselves, and let me go!"