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And yet they are upon my eyes,

And yet I am alive.

Before I see another day,

Oh let my body die away!

My fire is dead: it knew no pain;
Yet is it dead, and I remain.
All stiff with ice the ashes lie;
And they are dead, and I will die.
When I was well, I wished to live,

For clothes, for warmth, for food, and fire;
But they to me no joy can give,
No pleasure now, and no desire.
Then here contented will I lie!
Alone I cannot fear to die.

Alas! ye might have dragged me on

Another day, a single one!

Too soon I yielded to despair;

Why did ye listen to my prayer?

When ye were gone my limbs were stronger;
And oh how grievously I rue,

That, afterwards, a little longer,
My friends, I did not follow you!
For strong and without pain I lay,
My friends, when ye were gone away.

My child! they gave thee to another,
A woman who was not thy mother.
When from my arms my babe they took,
On me how strangely did he look!
Through his whole body something ran,
A most strange working did I see;
-As if he strove to be a man,

That he might pull the sledge for me.
And then he stretched his arms, how wild
Oh mercy! like a helpless child.

My little joy! my little pride!

In two days more I must have died.
Then do not weep and grieve for me;

I feel I must have died with thee.

Oh wind, that o'er my head art flying
The way my friends their course did bend,
I should not feel the pain of dying,
Could I with thee a message send!
Too soon, my friends, ye went away;
For I had many things to say.

I'll follow you across the snow;
Ye travel heavily and slow;
In spite of all my weary pain,
I'll look upon your tents again.
-My fire is dead, and snowy white
The water which beside it stood:

The wolf has come to me to-night,
And he has stolen away my food.
For ever left alone am I,

Then wherefore shall I fear to die?

THE LAST OF THE FLOCK

IN distant countries have I been,
And yet I have not often seen
A healthy man, a man full grown,
Weep in the public roads alone.
But such a one, on English ground,
And in the broad highway, I met;
Along the broad highway he came,
His cheeks with tears were wet,
Sturdy he seemed, though he was sad;
And in his arms a lamb he had.
He saw me, and he turned aside,
As if he wished himself to hide :
Then with his coat he made essay
To wipe those briny tears away.
I followed him, and said, "My friend,
What ails you? wherefore weep you so?
-"Shame on me, sir! this lusty lamb,
He makes my tears to flow.

To-day I fetched him from the rock:
He is the last of all my flock.

When I was young, a single man,
And after youthful follies ran,

Though little given to care and thought,
Yet, so it was, a ewe I bought;
And other sheep from her I raised,
As healthy sheep as you might see;
And then I married, and was rich
As I could wish to be;

Of sheep I numbered a full score,
And every year increased my store.
Year after year my stock it grew;
And from this one, this single ewe,
Full fifty comely sheep I raised,
As sweet a flock as ever grazed!
Upon the mountain did they feed,
They throve, and we at home did thrive
-This lusty lamb, of all my store,

Is all that is alive;

And now I care not if we die,

And perish all of poverty.

Six children, sir! had I to feed;

Hard labour in a time of need!

My pride was tamed, and in our grief I of the parish asked relief.

They said I was a wealthy man ;
My sheep upon the mountain fed,
And it was fit that thence I took
Whereof to buy us bread."

"Do this: how can we give to you,"
They cried, "what to the poor is due?"

I sold a sheep, as they had said,
And bought my little children bread,
And they were healthy with their food;
For me-it never did me good.

A woeful time it was for me,

To see the end of all my gains,

The pretty flock which I had reared
With all my care and pains,
To see it melt like snow away!
For me it was a woeful day.

Another still! and still another!

A little lamb, and then its mother!

It was a vein that never stopp'd

Like blood-drops from my heart they dropp'd.

Till thirty were not left alive

They dwindled, dwindled, one by one,

And I may say, that many a time

I wished they all were gone:

They dwindled one by one away;
For me it was a woeful day.

To wicked deeds I was inclined,
And wicked fancies crossed my mind;
And every man I chanced to see,
I thought he knew some ill of me.
No peace, no comfort could I find,
No ease, within doors or without;
And crazily, and wearily,
I went my work about.
Oft-times I thought to run away;
For me it was a woeful day.

Sir! 'twas a precious flock to me,
As dear as my own children be;
For daily with my growing store
I loved my children more and more.
Alas! it was an evil time;

God cursed me in my sore distress;
I prayed, yet every day I thought
I loved my children less;

And every week, and every day,
My flock, it seemed to melt away.

They dwindled, Sir, sad sight to see!
From ten to five, from five to three,
A lamb, a wether, and a ewe ;-
And them at last, from three to two:
And, of my fifty, yesterday

I had but only one:

And here it lies upon my arm,
Alas! and I have none;-

To-day I fetched it from the rock
It is the last of all my flock."

A COMPLAINT.

THERE is a change-and I am pocr;
Your love hath been, nor long ago,
A fountain at my fond heart's door,
Whose only business was to flow;
And flow it did; not taking heed
Of its own bounty, or my need.
What happy moments did I count !
Bless'd was I then all bliss above
Now, for this consecrated fount
Of murmuring, sparkling, living love,
What have I shall I dare to tell?
A comfortless and hidden WELL.
A well of love-it may be deep-
I trust it is, and never dry:
What matter? if the waters sleep
In silence and obscurity.

-Such change, and at the very door
Of my fond heart, hath made me poor.

THE AFFLICTION OF MARGARET

WHERE art thou, my beloved son,
Where art thou, worse to me than dead?
Oh find me, prosperous or undone !
Or, if the grave be now thy bed,
Why am I ignorant of the same
That I may rest; and neither blame
Nor sorrow may attend thy name?

Seven years, alas! to have received
No tidings of an only child;

To have despaired, and have believed,
And be for evermore beguiled;
Sometimes with thoughts of very bliss!
I catch at them, and then I miss ;

Was ever darkness like to this?

He was among the prime in worth,
An object beauteous to behold;
Well born, well bred; I sent him forth
Ingenuous, innocent, and bold:
If things ensued that wanted grace,
As hath been said, they were not base;
And never blush was on my face.

OF

Ah! little doth the young one dream,
When full of play and childish cares,
What power hath even his wildest scream
Heard by his mother unawares!
He knows it not, he cannot guess:
Years to a mother bring distress;
But do not make her love the less.

Neglect me! no, I suffered long
From that ill thought; and, being blind
Said, "Pride shall help me in my wrong
Kind mother have I been, as kind
As ever breathed:" and that is true;
I've wet my path with tears like dew,
Weeping for him when no one knew.

My son, if thou be humbled, poor,
Hopeless of honour and of gain,
Oh! do not dread thy mother's door
Think not of me with grief and pain:
I now can see with better eyes;
And worldly grandeur I despise,
And fortune with her gifts and lies.

Alas! the fowls of Heaven have wings,
And blasts of Heaven will aid their flight
They mount, how short a voyage brings
The wanderers back to their delight!
Chains tie us down by land and sea
And wishes, vain as mine, may be
All that is left to comfort thee.

Perhaps some dungeon hears thee groan
Maimed, mangled by inhuman men ;
Or thou upon a desert thrown
Inheritest the lion's den;

Or hast been summoned to the deep,
Thou, thou and all thy mates, to keep
An incommunicable sleep.

I look for ghosts; but none will force
Their way to me; 'tis falsely said
That there was ever intercourse
Betwixt the living and the dead;
For, surely, then I should have sight
Of him I wait for day and night,
With love and longings infinite.
My apprehensions come in crowds;
I dread the rustling of the grass;
The very shadows of the clouds
Have power to shake me as they pass:
I question things, and do not find
One that will answer to my mind;
And all the world appears unkind.

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