INTRODUCTION. SPARE a half-hour frae the bustle =O' these busy modern times, Buy, and read my wee broon bookie, =Filled wi' simple, muirland rhymes. 'Twas'na study o' versification, =Brocht the hamely rhymes to me; 'Twas the eerie muirland voices, =And the heart's ain melody; Ane upon the ither actin', =Brocht the rhymin' in a trice, Buy, but criticise it kindly, =Sma' the Book, but sma' the price. ====MARY STRACHAN. ACROSTIC. AVENDALE PARISH CHURCH. A restful, reverent feeling, fills our hearts as we enter in, Verily God is with us, when we meet to worship Him; Earthly cares for a time seem ended, as we unitedly pray, Near to Thee, oh, our Father! we draw on Thy Holy Day. Deep reverence fills our hearts, as God's Holy Word is read, A story, mayhap of Israel, from Egyptian bondage led, Longings come that we, too, may be led from the bondage of sin; Each has his own temptations, his battle with self to win. Peace steals o'er, as we listen of a Saviour reigning above, And our hearts grow tenderer, fuller of kindly, brotherly love, Renewed are our resolutions, to make life brighter for all- In pity, oh, Father! come free us, from self and Satan's thrall, Shower Thy bountiful blessings, on people and pastor too, Hope bring to glad fruition, while we forgiveness sue. Comfort the lonely bereaved ones, rest to the careworn bring, Hope to the hopeless, joy to the sad, to the wavering be Thou king, Under each careless exterior, set a spark of Thy love divine, Renewing, strengthening, sealing weak hearts that long to be Thine, Cheered and refreshed by the service, home o'er the moor we will go, Hopefully trusting life's good or ill, to a Father who loves us so. ACROSTIC. FATHER DAMIEN. For Jesus' sake he left his home and friends, And to Molokai, a leprous island went; To ease their aching sores, to save their souls from death, His life's best powers and energies were spent. Each morn, for strength for his great work he prayed; Right well he knew, with life, the price must soon be paid. Daily he taught those sorely stricken ones, Ah me! he washed their sores, yea, even dug their graves; 'Midst foul disease, his Christ-like life he lived, In meekness trusting all to Him who saves. Emblazoned on Time's page his name will ever stand- Name reverenced by all throughout Hawaiian Land. ACROSTIC. TO MY SISTER, JEANIE STRACHAN. JEANIE, darling sister! Every flower has blossoms bright, And the lark's a welcome warble, 'Neath the clouds of fleecy white; In this sweet time, come dear sister, Ere the frost begins to blight. Steal from out the dusty city, To our peaceful, rural life, Rest you here, my weary sister, After years of toil and strife. Come to "home and blooming heather," Here, where wild flowers deck the sod, All things look their best and brightest Nature praises Nature's God. ACROSTIC. WILLIAM EWART GLADSTONE: BORN 29th DECEMBER, 1809, DIED 19th MAY, 1898. WEEP for the mighty intellect stified In the mystic grip of death; Lay ye tributes and offerings meet, Low at our greatest statesman's feet, In death he lives by faith; A message send to his sorrowing one, Mourning the husband whose work is done. Energetic, truthful, and pure- Worker, thinker, through life's long span; A loving husband, a faithful friend; Right was his watchword to the end- The people's William-our Grand Old Man. Give him stately burial now, Lords and Commons homage pay, A way with all political strife; Dreams of a higher, holier life, Stir in our hearts to-day. Tenderly, lovingly, drop a tear Over the Christian orator's bier. Now his journey of life is done- Earth is well lost, and Heaven well won. ALONE MUST I ne'er know the sweets of love, =Or happy, "home, sweet home?" But unloved, cheerless, friendless, toil =Through this bleak world alone? ====Alone, alone! ====No happy home, ==No heart to make my heart its throne. No friend to cheer, no voice to bless, =No hand to soothe this brow of care; No loving words to reach my heart, ='Tis utter loneliness dwells there. ====Alone, alone! ====Oh! weary moan, ==No true one's love to call my own. But why repine? My God is good =To me, so undeserving grace; I'll strive my best to do His will; =He'll keep for me a resting place, ====Near His bright throne, ====In that sweet home, ==Where sin and sorrow are unknown. A MEMORY. YES! 'tis only an ivy leaf, =A faded, lifeless thing; But tender thoughts, and memories sweet, =Around it ever cling. The memory of a happy day =Spent on Gleniffer Braes, Where Tannahill in former years, =Attuned his sweetest lays. We three, by friendship closely drawn, =Enjoyed that happy time, The blythesome hours sped quickly past, =With merry jest and rhyme; I plucked a handful ivy leaves, =And some to each were given. Oh, friendship pure; oh, friendship true! =Thou art a gem of Heaven! The Lapwing (Joan's favourite), =Pee-weep'd to welcome spring; The Blackbird far adown the glen, =Made all the woodland ring; The Laverocks, mounting higher, higher, =Sang joyful hymns of praise, And we, of "kindred spirits," sat =Enraptured with their lays. The golden gorse, the budding trees, =The larch with feathery green, The rippling brook and waterfall, =Gave beauty to the scene. Oh! will I ever meet again =Those friends of former days, Or with them, taste of nature's sweets, =Among Gleniffer Braes? But though the future years should bring =Deep draughts from sorrow's cup, God helping us, we will not quail, =But bravely drink it up. We'll work to show His glory, =For so our strength is given; Then, though we part for ever here, =We'll meet again in Heaven. ANSWER TO "MEET ME." BY the burn you've asked to meet me, my ain dear lad, Whaur the violets bloom sae sweetly, my ain dear lad. ===I doubt if it be richt, ===Yet love makes a' sae bricht, I will come for just ae nicht, to my ain dear lad. But dinna come till after ten, my ain dear lad, For fear my minnie ken, my ain dear lad, ===Ah! lad, my folks at hame, ===Their dochter sair wad blame, For slippin' out alane, to her ain dear lad. An' gin they fand me out, my ain dear lad, They would keep me in I doubt, my ain dear lad, ===But when they fa' asleep, ===Quietly out to thee, I'll creep, And by the burn, I'll meet wi' my ain dear lad. Though your fortune is but sma', my ain dear lad, We will mak' it dae for twa, my ain dear lad, ===So lad I'll be your bride, ===An' wi' love upon our side, Smooth adown Life's stream we'll glide, my ain dear lad. A SPRIG OF HEATHER. DEAR sister, enclosed is a little sprig =Of purple heather, from home; It will come to you in the busy town, =As a memory of days long gone. Do you remember those long summer days, =When nature was stealing to rest, How we rambled away to the bridge, to watch =The sun sinking into the west? When his golden beams were spread around, =As if bidding good-bye to day, We remembered, and often breathed a prayer =For our loved one far away. Ah, sister! full many a change since then, =Has passed o'er our life's blue sky; Joys passing sweet that but turned to pain, =And hopes that but bloomed to die. But the sunlight will come again, dear, =It hath not left our sky for ever; So our hearts will beat true, thro' the shadows dark, =And our friendship live strong as the heather. Oh, Jeanie! dear Jeanie! you'll come again, =For another glad ramble together: With talk, sober and gay, we'll enjoy one more day, ='Mong our own bonnie blooming heather. A SUMMARY. LOVE restraining, Nothing gaining, Ne'er pertaining, In love's reigning; I distrust, Still I must Know the worst. Will she trust? I will seek My own sweet, Bliss complete, When we meet. With fear fraught, Her I sought, Would she not Share my lot? I love thee, My wife be, Let me see You love me? I descry In brown eye- Frank yet shy- Love is nigh. Love confess, Murmur, yes; (You can guess All the rest.) Always neat, Is my sweet; House I'll seek. Soon-next week. When she's mine, Sun will shine, Lives combine, Joys entwine. With my dear Always here, I will ne'er Sorrow fear. Rich am I, Hope beats high, I will buy, Diamonds? aye. Three-roomed house, Dear little wife, £2 a week, Happy for life. A SUMMER GLOAMING. SOFTLY the gloaming steals over the landscape =Stealthily shadowing every part, Bringing peace and a quiet gladness =Into my weary and restless heart. Oh! what longings and aspirations, =This peaceful, softening gloaming brings- Aspirations for life more useful- =Longings for higher, holier things. Longings to soar for ever upward, =Upward, onward, and leave behind All sordid cares and worldly strivings, =Gathering only treasures of heart and mind. Strewing the paths of my fellow-workers, =With blossoms of sympathy, sweet and glad; With flowers of love, and fruits of kindness, =Cheering the lives of the lonely and sad. Fain, fain would I be good and noble, =But faith is faulty, and flesh is weak; I must do the duty which "lieth nearest," =Ere higher, holier work I seek. The twilight deepens, the moor-fowl and curlews =Are silent now in their heathery home, And I feel the presence of spirits near me- =The spirits of loved ones long since gone. I feel their presence yet cannot see them, =I list, but cannot hear them call; I only know their presence is with me- =With, and around me, and God's o'er all. Often I think of thee, death and thy mysteries, =Vainly I try to pierce the gloom, To catch but a glimpse of the glorious brightness =I know is waiting beyond the tomb. Oh! blessed hope that longs for that brightness, =Oh! blessed faith that believes it there; Oh! blessed love to send us a Saviour, =To lead us home to His mansions fair. The gloaming is gone, and night's dark shadows =Have hidden the glow in the golden west; But this quiet hour in the summer gloaming, =Hath stilled my longings and brought me rest. AUTUMN. Oh, autumn! russet autumn! saddest time o' a' the year, Thy blighting hand hath touched the earth, and left it bleak and sere; The flowers fading one by one, the trees o' leaves a' bared, Make my thoughts oft wander sadly to Avondale graveyaird. Oh, autumn! sweet, sad, autumn; loveliest time o' a' the year, Ye come to nature just the same as death comes to us here; For parents, children, husbands, wives, and friends o' great regaird, Are leaves fallen off life's trees and laid within the auld grave-yaird. I mind when death first near me came, and laid my schoolmate low, I mind her weary days o' pain, her tossings to and fro; I mind how in my anguish wild, I prayed she might be spared, But God knew best: are long she lay within the auld grave-yaird. Many loved ones since have gone, but memory lingers yet, And oftimes brings midst joy, a pain, and many a sad regret; For aching hearts might oft been cheered, and loved ones' feelings spared, Had I kinder been era they were laid in Avondale grave-yaird. Oh, Autumn! thy cold biting breath, the leaves are scattering down, And some are green and immature, some ripe, a golden brown; And we are like those autumn leaves, that rustle to the swaird, Some are ripe, and some no ready yet, for Avondale grave-yaird. But the springtime will return, and renew our earth again, 'Twill make it greener, fresher, than 'twas ere autumn's reign; And a blessed hope is left to them, that longer here are spaced, For a gladsome springtime's waiting us, 'yont Avondale grave-yaird. BABY'S BEDTIME. FROM bath now you are fresh and rosy, =Baby boy of mine; Restless hands push in your night-dress, =How the pink nails shine. Brush the pretty flaxen ringlets- =Tiny rings of silk- Now your supper, baby darling, =Snow-white "posh" and milk. Supper finished-toes well warmed now, =Close your eyes, and soon Take good Surfaceman's advice, =And kindly "cuddle doon." Little, cosy, healthy body, =Brings no night alarms; Take a ticket for a sail in =Good ship-Mother's arms. Sail away to Slumberland, =Where Blanket bay is deep, Oblivion city you will find =In the Isle of Sleep. If I could, on your life, darling, =No dark cloud should loom, Ever brightest, sweetest sunshine, =Should dispel the gloom. I will ask our Father, baby, =Ere the night bells chime, Still to bless, and guard, and keep us, =Near Him all the time. Rest you, rest you, darling baby, =And at opening day, Mother's arms, from Waken pier, =Will bear my boy away. Far from Bedshire, down the stairway, =You will sail enjoy, Pa will take a kiss as ticket =From his baby boy. BEN. YOU are just a regular beauty, Ben, =Your back is black as jet, Your breast is white, your paws are white, =Wi' tan on legs and neck. You canna speak, but maist as weel, =Your thochts, ye let us ken; There's no your marrow roundabout, =My bonnie collie Ben. At breakfast you are there, for sure, =Wi' head upon some knee, And bits o' scones and crusts ye get, =And even drinks o' tea. For winning ways, you "take the cake," =To every heart the way ye ken, Ye're a winsome, kindly doggie, =A matchless collie, Ben. Ye cam' and looked me in the face- ='Twas to turn the straying kye- I didna ken what ye were wantin', =So I watched ye on the sly. Ye hovered near, and looked at me, =Syne toddled aff your lane, An' warily and cannily, =Ye airted them for hame. When harvest-time is drawin' near, =Gaun out at early morn, As oft as no, a swarm o' hens, =Are stragglin' a' the corn. Ye're aye near han', when you hear shoo, =Ye ken ye're wanted, Ben, Ye're ower the fence wi' flying bound, =An' out goes every hen. Ye welcome us on Sunday, Ben, =When comin' frae the kirk, Ye weary if we are'na hame, =On week days, gin it's mirk. For ane an' a', if long awa', =Ye hae aye a welcome hame, Your croonin' bark an' waggin' tail, =Says ye're glad we're back again. Ye ken nae fear, puir dog, except =When sportsmen's guns play boom, Ye think ye're safe, if only, you =Can manage ben the room. Ye tremble like an aspen leaf, =A coward ye are then, Ye surely think ye'll get your death, =Frae a gun some day, puir Ben. An' wanderin' dogs that sneak aboot, =Ye gar them lift their legs, And mony a yowl and peek they gie, =As hame they rin, my fegs. Ye are wecht for maist a' tousy tykes, =Ye are nae coward then, Yet ye're peacefully inclined, if ane, =At maister's foot comes ben. Although ye're bright and frolicsome, =Aye ready for a lark, Whene'er ye hear the maister whistle, =Ye're there at ance for wark. To work, ye're willin' and ye're able; =As long as we can fen, Ye'll get a hame and mony a tousy bane, =To pyke at leisure, Ben. BETTER. ==UP to the lift, ==Up to the lift, Let my sang o' praise ascend, ==Up to the lift ==Let my gratitude drift, To the Faither wha kens nae end. ==For the limitless wealth, ==O' sturdy guid-health, For the pleasure health brings in its train, ==Wi' strength to work, ==Hands winna shirk To do the behest o' the brain. ==Oh! 'tis gran' to feel ==Sae strong an' weel, Wi' the blood pulsin' warm in each vein, ==Richt ilka pairt, ==Strong hands, brave heart, As weel as a busy brain. ==Up to the lift, ==Whaur fleecy clouds drift Sae bonnily ower the blue, ==A sang I will raise, ==Overflowin' wi' praise, For the strength He was pleased to renew. BLYTHE WAS I. BLYTHE, blythe was I, in the dew-covered morning, =When the sun peeped so shy, thro' his thin veil of mist; Blythe was I still, when he slowly crept higher, =And the dew off the meadows, so stealthily kissed. Bravely I'll work in the hot broiling noonday- =Labour is lightened by love's sunny smile: For yestreen, love, you whispered, "I'll come in the gloamin', =To meet you again at the auld trystin' style." Wrapped close in my plaidie, there's nothing will fear you; =Oh! fain would I shield you, the rest o' your life. I honour and trust you, I love you sincerely;- =Oh! lassie, say yes, say you'll be my wife? Oh rapture! you promise that you'll be my dearie; =Then frae a' future dangers, my dawtie I'll shield. When the craws begin biggin' their nests for their nurslin's, =Will you be my bride, and come hame to my bield? Blythe will we be in the dew-covered morning; =Blythe, blythe at noonday, when larks lilt above: But blythest at gloamin'-the rest-bringing gloamin'- =The gloamin' that welcomes me hame to my love. BRODICK FAIR. THE simmer's wark was forward weel, =Sae we-a happy pair, Resolved to tak' a holiday, =And gang to Brodick Fair. We started when o'er Tinto hill, =The smilin' sun cam' up, He kissed the dewdrops aff the grass. =And dried each flow'ret's cup. Fu' pleasantly we sped alang, ='Mang woods an' pastures green, 'Twas interestin' to farmer folks, =To watch the varying scene. For here a field o' turnips, shows =A sickly, scanty braird, An' there a herd o' well-bred kye, =Enjoy the clovery swaird. At Irvine, tatties big an' strong, =Shake han's atween the drills, Afore the Glesca' Fair comes roun', =They'll lie in grocers' creels. The day was guid, oor hearts were licht, =The sail across was rare, But soon the "Molly Riley" band, =Proclaimed the Brodick Fair. "Drop a penny in the slot, young man, =See the happy family work, The hushand mending boots and shoes, =Wife, ironing husband's shirt." "Come, spey your fortune, pretty maid, =Just a penny in the slot, And the photo of your future lord, =Into your hand will drop." A motley scene-a strange array =O' horses, sheep an' kye, Wi' hobby horses, penny shows, =An' orra stan's forbye. A stylish mare was' trotted oot, =Well-fed, well-groomed, an' sleek, A mare o' speed an' substance too, =She handled weel her feet. An' there a beast-a bag-o'-banes, =His hair a stuggy broon, He did his best, he couldna help, =Puir beast! frae fa'in' doon. Wi' whip, his maister raised him up, =Syne trotted oot a cuddy, I'd dearly like to whip him up- =The drucken, swearin' body. A minute just, we stood, to hear =A Judy lecture Punch, But we were gettin' hungrysome, =So aff we set for lunch. But unco thrang the restaurant, =The waiters here an' there, Were hurryin' to serve the folks =That had come to Brodick Fair. "So many orders-quite confused," =I heard a waiter mutter, Ane got, instead o' sandwiches, =A plate o' bread an' butter. "Did she'll ca' this thing a sandwich, man," =(His cronie whispered "wheesh ") "She'll no be takin' hardened bread, =Wi' nocht but scart o' creesh." An' then he said that yesterday, ="It wass a terrible hot," Ane laughed at sic expression strange, =Sae Donal' angry got. "Did she'll think it's fun she'll mak' o' her, =Te prood, upstuckin' loon, Moreover, when her pride wass more, =She'll bring her nainsel' doon." But soon we leave the din ahin', =For breath o' caller air, Some noisy, steerin', lively folks, =Attend the Brodick Fair. A tiny boat we hire, and soon, =We're sailin' o'er the bay, Where merry jest now quickly wiles, =The precious hours away. Time flies apace, we hasten back, =The boat is soon aground; A cup o' tea, haste to the pier, =An' sune we're hameward bound. We broke oor journey for a wee, =At dear auld Killie toun, We mounted Burns' monument, =An' took a look aroun'. Oh! bonny toun! Rob Burns gie'd ye =O' highest praise, your meed, Puir Rabbie! genius often brings =Grand stanes, instead o' bread. But on wi' train, an' then wi' brake, =We'll sune be hame ance mair, The golden plover's eerie cry, =Comes ower the lanely muir. The gloamin' fa's wi' freshenin' dew, =For ilka blade o' grass, The hawkweeds, tho' their blooms be closed, =Nod gaily as we pass. An' hark! a welcome bow-wow-wow, =As garden gate gie's thud, We smell the roses as we pass, =An' pat the collie doug. The kettle singin' near the fire, =The table set for tea, An', "weel, ye hae got hame again," =Are what we hear an' see. Aye, aye, oor holiday is by, =An' here we are again, There's no a spot in a' the world, =Gie's rest an' peace like hame. BY LOGIE BRIG. ===OH! meet me lass, by Logie Brig, ====Where the plovers cry sae eerie, ===I'll wait for you in the gloamin' grey, ====When the muircock ca's in his dearie. I'd rather come in an open way, =To your hame amang the heather, Than bid ye meet me here by stealth, =For a wee sweet hour together. But I'm only a puir blate farmer chiel, =And your folks are sae haughty, Your mother's frown and your faither's gloom =Are ill to thole my dawtie. ===Then meet me, lass, by Logie Brig, ====Nae danger will betide ye, ===Frae eastlin' winds or gloamin' dews, ====I'll shield ye in my plaidie. I can gae ye a snug and cosy hame, =Though neither grand nor gaudy, And ye'll be happy as a bird, =Wi' your leal true-hearted laddie. Though puir in wealth, I am proud and rich, =Rich in your love my dearie, For your sweet sake, both soon and late =I'll work awa' richt cheery. ===Then meet me lass, by Logie Brig, ====Where the waters join sae cheery, ===I'll wait for you in the gloamin' grey, ====When the muircock ca's in his dearie. CHEER UP. CHEER up, old heart of mine! =Life has great possibilities still, Set down your foot on the troubles that hurt, =Make use of your strength of will. The clouds of misfortune disperse, =Push on through the din and the strife, Let not the love of rest and ease =Drag down to a baser life. Heed not the gossiping tongues, =They cut the heart like a knife- They brought despair, when I needed hope, =For the burden and heat of life. Live down the gossip and spite- =The slanderous lies that have been- Oh! heart be quiet! oh! tongue be still, =Give not vent to your rage and spleen. But cheer up! old heart of mine, =Let not your faculties rust, Use them well, let the spirit soar =Above the grime and the dust. Up, up, let it upward soar, =Though to gain the ideal be vain, The upward soaring may help to dispel =The madness from heart and brain. Though its pinions be weak and tired, =Though to earth it oft falls down, Conquering the kingdom of self and sin, =May yet gain the victor's crown. Stamp down the wild despair, =Let new faith, new hope be born, The hopeless gloom of a darksome night =May precede a rosy morn. Cheer up old heart of mine! =If hope lives strong in the breast, 'Twill chase life's fever from heart and brain, =And even to me bring rest. CLICKITY - CLACK. FOLKS ca' me a lanely auld bachelor noo, =An' vow I'll be sae till I dee; When they pity my laneliness, little they ken =The guid company the mill is to me. Clickity, clickity, clickity-clack, Work ye when thrang, lad, an' rest ye when slack. When a young chap, ten years since, I first took the mill, =I'd a lass, but my siller was scant,- I'd to keep my auld mither,-she gaed wi' anither, =Love, rather than dress, she would want. Clickity, clickity, clickity-clack, The mill sang, she's awa', will she ever come back? Tho' heavy my heart, as the bags o' new meal, =The mill cheered wi' its clickity-clack, Sayin', "Never despair, bring the grist into me, =She'll hunger for love an' come back." Clickity, clickity, clickity-clack, "The trade's gettin' better, a fortune you'll mak'." There's aye ups an' doons in a mill, like a' else, =Sae depression cam' on in its turn: Twa days wark in the week, an' I needed repairs =Baith to lade an' to dam o' the burn. Clickity, clickity, clickity-clack, The mill only muttered, "We're slack, unco slack." There ne'er was a hill but calm howe lay ayont- =We grew thranh, just as thrang as could be, The cairts wi' their clatter, their jostle an' jatter, =Brocht grist to the mill an' to me. Clickity, clickity, clickity-clack, Here's anither ane comin', hoo much will he tak'? I've just seen my auld lass, she is aye single yet, =She rues leavin' me noo unco sair; She's got wealth o' her ain, wad I no forgi'e noo, =An' love her, and trust her ance mair? Clickity, clickity, clickity-clack, Love's fire is re-kindled, my lass is come back. My wark noo is licht, for my heart noo is licht, =An' the mill wi' its clickity-clack Gangs cheerily whirrin' the hale lea-lang day, =Aye sayin'-"She's back, she is back." Clickity, clickity, clickity-clack, E'en dark days has their sunshine, since Jenny cam' back. DERELICTION. OH! for one hour of complete forgetfulness! =Oh! for one day wholly free from despair? Oh! that my heart might be rid of its fretfulness, =And feel as of yore, light, glad, free as air. Had your love but been mine, it had been all-sufficient =To brighten life's pathway, with joys unsurpassed, Had your love, had your sympathy ne'er been deficient, =My best dreams of bless, had been all true at last. Oh! to be rid of this wearisome weariness! =Oh! that this wild, turbid striving would cease! Oh! for an end to this craving and yearning, =And my heart once again be at rest, be at peace. Where is the gladness I felt in life's morning? =Where are the peace and contentment gone? Must this dreary loneliness stay with me ever, =Must I feel 'midst the crowd, alone, all alone? Why did you come and teach me to love you? =You loved only me was the story you told, Why did you come to me, only to leave to me, =Sorrow and grief for the gladness of old? Days pass on, still I watch for your coming, =Till my eyes grow dim with the dews of pain; I loved you, I loved you, and oh! it is bitter, =To love you so well, yet love you in vain! My love! my love! come back to me dearest, =Press your warm lips once more to mine, Fold your arms again closely about me, =Let me see in your eyes love's light for me shine. Oh! I am tired, so tired and weary, =The energy in me all seems to be dead; Had you loved me, life had never been dreary, =Your love, a halo of brightness had shed. Oh! heart of mine, come back to me dearest! =Your love is earth's only boon I prize, Life with you were to me Elysian, =If lovelight shone for me in your eyes. DIFFERENT ASPECTS OF THE SEA. OH, restless sea! be still, and cease your sobbing; =Why restless toss, with weary moan and wail, Like loving wife, of safe return despairing, =Yet watching still, for husband's homeward sail? Be still, be still, and let us see you smiling, =Your idle fretting for a little cease; The waiting wife will join the longed-for husband- =Across life's ocean, there is endless peace. Oh, merry sea! your ripples in the sunshine, =Would seem as though with costly jewels set; Our little boat, you toss with silvery wavelets, =While foamy crests like gulls your bosom deck. Oh! frolic on, and teach us to be merry; =Oh! dance with glee like children in their play- Merry hearts make bright and cheerful faces, =Merry hearts make sunshine all the day. Oh, sullen sea! so gloomy and forbidding, =You look in menace at the threatening sky; A low, fierce growl comes stealing o'er your surface, =Your anger rises, warfare draweth nigh. So like a criminal of sullen aspect- =The bull-dog look, the hand firm clenched in strife, The cruel blow, that strikes in reckless passion, =Unheeding, though it costs a human life. Oh, raging sea! your waves rise up like mountains, =And threaten to engulf our labouring ship; The groans and creaks, and plunges 'mid the billows, =All brings a prayer for aid to many a lip. Oh! dark and treacherous, wild, tempestuous water! =Like evil passions in the human breast, You rage and hate, and headlong bring disaster, =Oh, angry sea I you know not what is rest. Oh, peaceful sea! so calm, so still, so glassy, =The bold, bright sun, is mirrored on your breast, No rippling wave disturbs your silvery surface, =To us you bring tranquillity and rest. Like Christian life-so pure, serene, and holy, =Diffusing peace and sweetness all around; The placid look dispels our fears and weakness, =And tranquil rest and strength with you are found. Oh, changing sea! in all your varied aspects, =Strange thoughts, and vague imaginings you bring; Your shrieks and whispers, moans and merry laughter- =I half believe you are a living thing. I love you, sea, in all your different aspects- =In merry mood, I love you best of all, When low the sun sinks down in crimson glory, =And lights and shadows on your bosom fall. DOUBT. OH, Life! mysterious Life! whence comes This craving for something afar off? A craving I vainly try to still, A yearning that wars against my will; Oh, God! this aching emptiness fill, Still the cry for something afar off; =Afar off, afar off! Oh! to regain lost rest and peace, Oh! keep me not ever afar off! Where, oh where, has the old belief gone? Has it gone for ever afar off? Oh, Doubt! oh, Doubt! have ye overcome Faith? Oh, Life! oh, Life! ye wrestle with Death; Ye strive to escape from his icy breath, To fly with freedom afar off! =Afar off, afar off! Give, oh God! for the waters of Lethe, The river of Peace afar off! Oh! little star in the azure sky, Ye shine so brightly afar off; Say, is there rest in that land above? Is there Faith and Hope and Peace and Love? Does Life's wild bitterness fail to move In the great Beyond afar off? =Afar off, afar off! Oh! to rest in The City of God, To feel no longer afar off. DRIFTED APART. THE moor was aglow last night, when the sun =Sank to rest in his bed of gold; But a cheerless mist now wraps its sheen =In his mantle grey and cold. My life was fair, as those purple blooms, =When the sun shines bright, sweetheart, But its sweetness faded, beneath the cloud =That drifted us two apart. Was your love so weak, has your fancy cooled? =Oh! love, if this be so, A long farewell to the faith, the love, =And the bliss of the long ago. We are drifting further and further apart, =For you passed me by to-day, You must have known I was near you, dear, =Yet you never glanced my way. So near, so near, and yet so far, =Oh! love, must it aye be so? Will the after years ne'er bring the love =That was mine in the long ago? My heart beats fond and true as of yore, =And I ne'er have known, dear heart, What came between us-oh! why, love, why! =Have we drifted so far apart? You said you loved for my own sweet sake, =In that far-off golden time, Then was it the troubles of other lives =Threw a shadow on yours and mine? Oh! tell me why, and ease this pain, =It well nigh breaks my heart; Oh! tell me love, is mine the blame- =That we two have drift'ed apart? I have only a memory left me now, =And I ne'er will let it go, For life to me now is only lit, =With the light of the long ago. FAREWELL. FAREWELL! a long farewell to flowery knowes, =To purple heather blooming rich and free, Farewell, dear Calder! wimpling thro' the howes, =Words cannot tell how dear thou art to me. Here childhood came on bright and gladsome pinions, =How sweet and fair, but brief, brief was its flight, Then maidenhood, of joys and sorrows blended, =The shadows dark, made sunshine seem more bright. No wealth or pomp can e'er efface the memory =Of blissful scenes, where first I learned to know The dream of love, that ended, oh! so sadly, =And blighted hopes, fond hopes, long, long ago. My muirland home, I ne'er again may see thee, =I ne'er again may climb thy heathery hill; The curlew's call, the moorcock's invitation =May ne'er again my aching bosom thrill. Farewell my home! though far from thy pure gladness, =A bright green spot thou'lt be in memory; But home's sweet joys, love's dream, or ties of friendship, =Memory alone can bring them back to me. FORGET. OH, little lark! the hawk had nearly caught you, =Half-dead with fright you let me lift you, pet, Your little breast is quivering with emotion, =Poor little bird! be still, your woes forget. And did he rob your nest, and kill your nestlings, =While yet the lea, with glittering dew, was wet; Then hunted you, until you dropped for safety, =Just at my feet, poor lark, the hawk forget. I'll shield you, lark! be still, and cease bewailing =The cruel fate your little ones have met; When hawk is gone, you'll mount and sing a requiem, ='Twill ease your heart, and help you to forget. Though heart o'erflows with wild impetuous feeling, =And plaintive throbs amid your sweet notes get, Time heals each wound; in giving pain expression, =Wounds deep and sore, you will forget, forget. When life drags on, so slow, with wings half-broken, =And weary oft, with pain and sad regret, The tortuous way will one day reach an ending, =Leave cares with God, and pain forget, forget. GONE. NAE mair, nae mair, wi' me Jamie, ye'll spiel the grassy braes, As ye did sae blythe and free in the happy byegone days, Nae mair ye'll skim across the ice, or wade through snowy drift- Your sorrows are a' ower now, you're far aboon the lift. You were faither's hope and comfort, weel he lo'ed his only son- But he'll watch in vain at gloamin', when the long day's work is done; For you'll came nae mair, dear Jamie, and oh! we miss you sair, Since your kindly voice was hushed for aye, your bright face seen nae mair. How often hae we wandered in the happy byegone days, When the primrose bloomed sae sweetly, and the birdies sang God's praise, The Spring will come again, wi' buds and blossoms fair, But you'll come nae mair, dear Jamie, ye'll come nae mair, nae mair. When Autumn's leaves began to fa', you first began to dwine, And Death came marching on fu' quick, and took you in your prime, Your sorrows are a' ower now, your fears are a' at rest, And fond Ambition's fire is stilled, that burned within your breast. The mill will never grind wi' the water that's gone by; So the happy days will ne'er come back, so sweet to you and I; For your pilgrimage is ended, your life's journey here is o'er, But our aching hearts keep saying-"Not lost, but gone before." HAMESICK. THE paddocks and the woods beyond =Are bathed in sunshine bright, But faur away', oh! faur awa' =My fancy wings its flight, Awa' to dear auld Scotland- =O' beauty spots the wale- Awa' to Scotland's sweetest pairt, =My native Avondale. Aneath an orange tree I sit, =An' close my weary e'en, The paddocks seem to disappear, =An' oh! hoo changed the scene. I seem to see auld Stra'ven toon, =An' freen's o' auld langsyne, I seem to see a muirland hame- =A hame that ance was mine. The long bare stretch o' muirland =Had a beauty a' its ain, The bonnie heather's purple blooms =I long to see again; The Quarry Knows whaur we row-chow'd =When we were young an' hale; My auld heart warms when thochts tak' wing =To bonnie Avondale. There the blaeberries we hunted for, =The burn we paddled in, Whiles guddled for the spotted trouts, =Till sunny days were dune. Oh, me; oh, me! the memories =O' bairntime are sweet- I seem to see the water yet, =Flow ower the wee bare feet. Tho' Australia has been kindly, =An' showered on me her wealth, A weary hamesick feelin' aye =Creeps in my heart by stealth; Oh! I sigh for childhood's hameland, =Whaur pleasures ne'er grew stale, I want a glint, afore I dee, =O' bonnie Avondale. 'Tis a sair an' weary feelin' =When we long for freens in vain, An' a foreign land is dreary, =When we sigh for hame again; Noo my mind is fairly settled, =Ere long I will set sail, To spend the autumn o' my life =In bonnie Avondale. HAMEWARD. IT'S a dark, dark night, no' a star's in the lift, =And nae signs o' a risin' mune; But my heart is bricht wi' God's ain licht, =An' His peace reigns supreme within. I've a long, long road, but cheerily I'll plod =Awa' to my muirlan' hame; But I ken nae fear, for God is sae near, =That I feel as I were'na alane. Oh! thou wee wimplin' rill, how ye gar my heart thrill =For ye tell me I'm mair than half-way; So I'll start wi' a will up this hindmost hill; =Oh! it's lanely, an' dark, an' stey. No a glimmer o' licht, shines through the dark nicht, =Dark and darker it seems to grow; Hark! I hear the same rill, that I passed yont the hill, =But it's grown to a burn in the howe. Sae sweet is its sang, as it journeys alang, =That I'll rest on the brig to hear; Nature's sangs are best; how they soothe me to rest, =And I feel to my Maker sae near. I'm glad that in the past, my life's lot was cast =Sae far awa' frae misery and sin, For I feel God mair near, amang His ain works here, =Than e'er I did 'mid town's bustle an' din, Oh! His Word I will keep, as a lamp to my feet, =And try aye to walk nearer to Him. HAPPY AN' WEEL. IN the mornin' we rise, while the dew the grass tints, Whiles ere life-giving Sol, o'er Tinto tap glints, =For the kye maun come in, so o'er quarry knowes spiel, =Oh! it's heartsome, it's lichtsome, when happy an' weel. 'Tis pleasant to see the milk, plenty an' guid. Ilka coo sae contented, stan's chewing her cud, =We will gie them a drink o' weel-scalded bean meal, =To keep them a' healthy, an' gar them milk weel. The breakfast is ready, come, eat "halesome fare"- The liberal Minorca provided her share; =The chatter an' joke indigestion will steal, =An' leave us contented, an' happy, an' weel. The calves maun be fed, an' the hens get their pick, A big gaucy pailfu', weel-stirred, warm an' thick, =Nae chasin' o' hens noo-that pup is a deil- =Unless he's in mischief, he thinks he's no weel. At three o' the morn the milk-cart gaed awa', By this time nae doobt it has crossed Broomielaw, =The milk, butter, chickens, fresh eggs, an' a veal, =Bring the wherewithal hams to be bien-like an' weel. The ither twa horses industrious has been, For three 'oors they hae worked in the mowing machine, =Folks cry eight 'oors a day, we work thirteen atweel. =An' still we're contented, ah' happy, an' weel. Hae ye been to the muir Pete, an' seen ilka quey? Then, gin the dew's lifted, we'll gang to the hay, =Turn swathes an' coup quoils, when they fair burslin' feel, =We will gather an' rick them, a' snodly an' weel. It is near twelve o'clock, an' the heat is intense, The respite at dinner-time, will be "immense," =We will lilt a sang, penned by the Bard o' Mossgiel, =To keep us contented, an' happy, an' weel. There's the birl o' the postman, come, haste to the brig, An' see if the letters bring onything guid, =Ane, twa, three, an' a packet, firm closed wi' a seal, =I hope a' the writers are happy an' weel. The first is a circular, what news does it bring, Advertising nae doobt o' some by-ordinar' thing, =Aye! it tells o' the guid, o' some wonderfu' pill, =Just use it, 'twill keep you aye healthy an' weel. The next is frae lawyer, on business intent, Gin I'll sell aff some shares, I will gain sax per cent, =Na, na, Mr Lawyer, ye winna jist steal =The golden-egg layin' hen, that has served me see weel. But here's the third letter, the best o' the lot, I wouldna' miss this, for a fifty pound note, =It is just an invite, frae a real canty chiel, =Wi' him I could aye be contented an' weel. The packet brings photograph, pleasant an' fair, O' twa freens that live in the auld toon o' Ayr; =Oh! it mak's my auld heart a new happiness feel, =To see them sae happy, an' lookin' sae weel. Tam is yoked in the lifter, put on forks an' rakes, A can o' sour-milk, an' a bundle o' rapes, =To tie down the rick-taps, then frae Hareshaw or Giel, =The wild wind may whistle, they'll stan' dry an' weel. Sune ilka and is thrang, just as thrang as can be, Rakin', forkin', an' rickin', well-won timothy; =Come gee-up man Tam, there is aye corn an' meal, =For baith man an' beast, if they like to dae weel. Love lichtens a' labour, losh! hoo the 'oors flee, An' here comes the mistress, already, wi' tea, =Stop wark, rest a wee in the rick's shady bield, =Tea was ne'er sae delicious, as in a hay field. Hech! the rest was fu' welcome, noo hard as ye like, We will start wark again, thrang as bees in a byke, =When the milkman comes hame, here a glance he will steal =I hae nae doobt, he'll think, we has dune unco weel. Then though fickle fortune upon us should froon, Though oor hearts wi' the falseness o' freens gie a stoun' =We will laughingly drive carkin' care to the deil, =We will still be contented, an' happy, an' weel. An' though maybe at times, I feel dowie an' wae, An' like long weary year, seems just ae single day, =A quiet oor wi' nature, again makes me feel, =Just unco contented, an' happy, an' weel. HORSE-TALK. _Jenny_- HALLO! mare Meg, guid-mornin' to ye, Ye're quite a stranger, hoo's a' wi' ye It's three years since we met, or mair, An' oh! but ye are failin' sair; Ye surely hae a sair fore-leg, Ye're no half-cleaned, ye look ill-fed, Come, gie's your crack, tell hoo ye've been, Till maister comes upon the scene. _Meg_- Losh! Jenny lass, I'm gled to see ye, I'll gladly crack a wee while wi' ye, My maister's newly gane atweel, He brocht me in for lade o' meal, For dram he gaed aff wi' Jock Broon, Sae Common Green I daun'ered doon, At Fountain here to get a drink, An Jenny, dae ye ken, I think It has a flavour o' the heather, Where you an' me aft ran thegither. _Jenny_- Ay! weel I mind that time, mare Meg, We gie'd oor mithers mony a fleg, They liked to feed aside the burn, That ran wi' mony a jouk an' turn, Whaur dyke was laigh 'yont water-yett, We ran to scart ilk ither's neck. _Meg_- An' Jenny, dae ye mind the go We had at Stra'ven Cattle Show, That day we aft heard country Billies Ca' us a pain of stylish fillies; The Judge just gie'd his arms a rax, Quo he, ane's six the ither's sax, The grey shows best her master's care, So I got first-I had ye there. _Jenny_- Aye, an' next year we met again, Ye were that day a wee thocht lame, A hurt on nesty, barbed wire, Made ye whiles lift a kennin' higher, I got the first, tho' ye were best, Gin ye'd had but a fortnicht's rest: My maister sell't me there and then, So we hae seldom met ye ken. _Meg_- Weel, I was ta'en to Stra'ven Fair, An' there stood wi' a guid wheen mair, Till I was sell't and sell't richt weel, To quite a decent farmer chiel, Wha broke me in, and my probation Was drivin' milk to Railway Station; The road was short, I managed fine, Till ae day in the winter-time, The street was just me sheet o' ice, My feet gae'd frae me in a trice, I broke a tram, he lost the whip, A stave ca'ed in, in guid milk butt, Let oot o' it a perfect stream- Of course, it was the ane wi' cream- Nae fau't o' mine, I skinned my knees, But feth! the maister was ill-pleased; For me it was a sair disaster, He sell't me cheap, to drucken maister, Wha has me yet, I'm grieved to tell, The ills I thole, ye see yersel'. _Jenny_- Indeed, puir Meg, I sair regret, Ye're just the picture o' neglect. Your cairt, paint has'na seen for lang, Your breechin's fastened wi' a whang; Your harness hard an' perfect green, It black or oil has seldom seen, The buckles maybe ance were clear, But surely no for mony a year; Your leg is stiff an' sairly lumpit, Ye'd smarter look gin ye were rumpit; Just skin an' bane, an' rough o' hair, Ye show an' awfu' want o' care. _Meg_- Weel, Jenny lass, ye're fairin' fine, Your silver buckles glint and shine, Your harness, too, is saft and black, An' floo'er stuck in your brecham tap. Your rumpit tail, an' short sleek hair, Tell brush and curry-comb's been there, Your glossy skin, an' plump fat side, Show ye're your maister's joy and pride, Ye look sae weel in ilka pairt, Ye're fit for carriage 'stead o' cairt. _Jenny_- I just had ance a painfu' leg, Twa quarrelin' dougs gi'ed me a fleg, Ae day that I was in the toun, The fechtin' things cam' yaffin' roun'; Sae up Townhead I ran aff skelpin', The twa came efter, barkin', yelpin', First mite let oot an awfu' wail, I'd pinned 'tween fit an' wheel her tail; The ither ane cam' on ahin', Still yelpin', makin' fearfu' din; Sae close it came ahint my heels, I just let fly atween the wheels, He yowled, an' howled as if in pain, The yaffin' stopped, he limpit hame. When up a bit I took my time- The day was warm, an' unco fine- My leg I fand gi'ed stouns o' pain, Ere maister cam' an' gripped my rein, He gi'ed me whack across the back, Quo he, ye donnert fule! tak' that, Ye gowk! ye hae yersel' to blame, That ye are hirplin' there, dead lame. We gaed fu' slow, when hame we managed, He bound it wi' cauld water bandage, It whiles was weel, then waur again, A day's hard wark brocht back the pain, It would'na cure a' he could dae, An' then he sent for Mr Rae, A famed bane-setter in the toun', Wha cured lame folks for miles aroun'; He cam', my maister brocht me oot, He felt it a weel roun' aboot; My maister said, can ye adjust it? "Oh yes!" quo he, "the joint is twisted; Five minutes, if I manage clever, Will make your mare as good as ever." A rape he twisted roun' my fit, An' tell't them no to let it slip; He squeezed his thumbs aboot the bane, Now jerk the rope, again! again! It gied a crack, I fand a stoun', He aff the rape and let it doun', "Now, run her out with all your might, I'll guarantee you'll find her right." Losh, Meg! it fand sae soun' and hale, I spankit oot like Royal Mail; I've ne'er looked ower my shoulder since, Nor had a pain to gar me wince. _Meg_- There was just ance I ran awa', 'Twas winter-time an' deep the snaw; At public-house, as aft before, My maister left me at the door; I starved wi' cauld, while he sat drinkin', Quo I, I'll mak' for hame I'm thinkin'; So aff I set, an' warmin' fine, When fussy body gripped my rein, An' held me fast, till Maister cam', An' then the lickin'; Oh, my sang! Sic swears an' oaths cam' pourin' forth, As micht hae doomed auld Mither Earth; To croon it a' he kicked me there, Just whaur my knee had been sae sair. Oh, Jenny! it ga'ed sic a stoun', I very nearly drappit doun, To hirple hame, I scarce was able, I stood for three weeks in the stable; Even yet wi' heavy cairt o' coals, Ye little ken the pain Meg tholes. The mistress was as kind's could be, An' did her best to doctor me; A decent, kind, hard-workin' kimmer- Tho' bound for life to sic a sinner. Oh, Jenny lass! could horses greet, The tears had trickled down my cheek, To see the licht her kind e'e leave, Wi' drucken villian's cruel nieve; Losh! auld maids' lot is nae sic evil, As hae for husband drucken deevil. _Jenny_- Puir Meg! for ye my heart is sair, Ye've had o' ills an extra share. It's awfu' hoo a man will sink, When ance he starts to boose an' drink. _Meg_- Oh, Jenny! ye hae nae conception, The misery an' deep dejection It brings to mithers, dochters, wives, It clouds an' darkens bairnies' lives; The bairns at hame-wee, pinched, ill-cled, An' aft, like me, no ower weel-fed, They cower an' shrink wi' perfect fricht, Whene'er the maister comes in sicht- Their faither-wha should be, ye ken, To them, the dearest, best o' men _Jenny_- Gin I had maister half as bad, I wad'na thole, I'd kick like mad But O, my maister is sae kind, He sorts me aye just to my mind His very piece I get a share, If cauld, he haps me up wi' care; He's sic a cheery, workin' ane, A better, I will never fin'. _Meg_- I ne'er get oucht but scant bog-hay, He thinks guid feedin' does'na pay. _Jenny_- I wish ye had a better maister, If no, ere long ye'll be a waister; An' yet-wi' care-for mony a year, Ye wad be usefu', guid, grey mare. While he, wi' drink, just ruins his soul, You-puir mare Meg-neglect maun thole. _Meg_- Od lass! it has relieved my mind, To tell my griefs to ane sae kind; But maister micht be oot ere lang, Back whaur I cam' frae, I best gang. _Jenny_- If e'er ye're near me gie's a cry, But here's my maister, sae guid-bye. _Meg_- Whaur next we'll meet, I canna say, But gled we've met, guid-day, guid-day. IN THE MOONLIGHT. UP the hill, up the hill, I am homeward bound- =See the moon on her lofty throne, In and out so clear, she seems to steer =Through the clouds to guide me home. A little black cloud, like a dusky wing, =Obscures for a little her light, Then flitting apace, right over her face, =It vanishes into the night. Shine on, shine on, oh, Queen of the night! =With that soft, cold light of thine! Again, let me feel o'er my spirit steal, =A feeling well-nigh divine. Now a fleecy cloud half veils your face- =Say, is it by Royal command, That sad and slow, though white as snow, =It moves to the Shadowland? How clear and still is this moonlight night, =Oh! I would that its peace might last! The moonbeams glance, thro' fantastic branch, =And strange, weird shadows cast. Weird shadows, that wile my thoughts away =From earth, and each troublous hour; In the solitude of the lone pine wood, =I touch with a Higher Power. What art thou, oh, Queen of the Night? =Thy reign to-night will be brief- What is thy history I-tell me the mystery- =Or give me back Childhood's belief. My Childhood's belief, that thou wert, oh Queen! =The fire of the God of Love, And each tiny star, that sparkled afar, =A lamp in His home above. Sweet thoughts, strange dreams, weird fancies come =In the sough of the swaying pines. Here is no hurry, no bustle, no worry, =No wrangling of modern times. One quiet hour in the soft moonlight, =In the gloaming, or in the storm, Brings sweet release, and blessed peace, =To a spirit jaded and worn. JOHNNY FROST. JOHNNY FROST! Johnny Frost! ye're an angersome carl, =Sae angersome whiles, I maist wish ye were deid! My parsley ye've wasted, my kail ye hae wallowed, =No a leek can I get, ye grasp a' in your greed. In my well ye've been pokin', and fastened the sucker, =To keep me frae gettin' some water for tea, My dishclouts ye've hardened, my windows ye've frozen, =No a thing, nor a body, outside, can I see. Ye hae nippit my fingers until they are dinglin', =My e'en are baith waterin', my nose deed an' a'; While I'm sair put aboot wi' yer mischievous cantrips =Ye gaily carouse wi your auld cronie, Snaw. The wee birds sit cowerin' amang the bare branches, =Ilka twig, ilka branch, ye hae covered wi' rime, Ye has made them a' cauldrife, an' hungry, an' dowie, =Except the wee robin, he sings a' the time. There are shilfas, blue-bonnets, green linties an' laverocks, =Yellow-hammers, twa blackies, an' sparrows sae grey, A corn sheaf I'll stick up amang the tree branches, =They'll repay me wi' singin' some fine simmer day. Ye has polished the pavements until they're sae slippery, =I canna walk steady, dae a' that I can; Oh! I wish that auld Sol wad come oot in his glory, =Gin he'd but shine briskly, he'd shift ye, my man! Ha! ha! Johnny Frost, work hard at your mischief, =Ere this time the morn, you'll bid us fareweel, Ye heard as I did, the Thaw Wind blaw his trumpet, =His sough will sune sort ye, ye mischievous chiel. JUST ANOTHER. HARVEST wet, and dreich the innin'- =Sprouting bands are ill to dry- Rain-clouds threaten-glass is backin'- =Just another day we cry. ===Just another! just another! ===Ae guid day, and we'd be by. Baby eyes look into mother's- =Flattery's art is soon begun- Tiny fingers point to cherries, =Please ma-ma, anodder one. ===Just anodder! just anodder! ===One cherry for oo's little son. Family young, and drunken father- =Poortith's ills are here weel kent- Anxious mother counting savings, =Wants a pound to pay the rent. ===Just another! just another! ===A pound last week on drink he spent. Songs we hear that memories waken- =Memories sweet of joy or pain- And our hearts thrill with the music, =Till we echo the refrain. ===Just another! just another! ===Sing another o' the same. Close-clasped hands that loving linger- =Lad and lass fu' loath to part- Silence broken-low words whispered- =Tell desire o' ilka heart. ===Just another! just another! ===Just another kiss, sweetheart. LOVE ===LOVE! thou art strong, ===Thou lasteth long, Conquering all things that come in thy way; ===Pure? yes, and deep, ===Sure! yes, and sweet; Love, thou art a blessing wherever you stray. ===Fond heart from heart ===Nothing will part, If you but keep them, love, under your sway; ===Cross wives grow dutiful, ===Daughters grow beautiful, If you but live with them ever and aye. ===When we love's nectar sips ===As lip toucheth lip, Joy fills the heart, sorrows vanish away; ===Nought earthly can excel the bliss ===Of first love's tender kiss; Pleasant are life's pathways, when brightened by love's ray. ===Heaven's best gift thou art, ===Healer of each broken heart; Come, then, oh, blessed love! live here alway; ===Kindly we'll greet thee, ===Gladly we'll keep thee, Fondly we'll tend thee, if thou wilt but stay. MARY. WHAT makes the little word 'Mary,' =Seem sweeter than ever before? What is this strange, sweet feeling, =That thrills my heart to the core? What makes my eyelids droop so, =And the blushes o'erspread my cheek? What makes my heart go a-throbbing =So wildly, each time we meet? 'Tis the richest of earthly treasures, ='Tis the song of angels above, 'Tis the best of all heaven's blessings: =It is Love, it is fond, deep Love. When my youth and beauty fadeth, =And the roses leave my cheek; When my brow with care is furrowed. =Will your love prove as strong and deep? O Love! give me true love only, =What care I for wealth's vain joys? O Love! give me true love only, =And away with gay-gilded toys. MEET ME. OH! lassie, will you meet me by Calder's side? Where the violets bloom sae sweetly, by Calder's side, ==In my plaid I'll fauld you ticht, ==Frae the cauld I'll keep you richt; Oh! say you'll come the nicht to the Calder's side. When the sun nae mair long shadows casts on Calder's side, When the dews o' nicht are fa'in' fast on Calder's side. ==I'm sure your folks at hame ==Their dochter winna blame For slippin' oot alane to the Calder's side. Whaur the rocky knowes are steep, on Calder's side, Nae disturbers we will meet on Calder's side, ==Save the muircocks whirrin' by, ==Save the curlews eerie cry, As they nightly hameward his o'er the Calder's side. An' gin the rain should fa' on Calder's side, 'Neath the blossoms o' the haw, on Calder's side, ==A shelter we will seek, ==Oh! gin you wad but meet, Our trystin' wad be sweet on Calder's side. Oh! my fortune is but sma', lass o' Calder side, But to you I'll gie it a', lass o' Calder side; ==An' gin my bride ye'll be, ==Until the day I dee, True and faithful I will be, lass o' Calder's side. MEMORIES. A LONELY old man, I sit to-night =In the fire's flickering light, Sit and dream of the long ago, =When life with hope was bright. Dream of the dear old home of my youth- =Gay with a festive throng- Brilliant with beauty, light and wealth, =Ringing with jest and song. Dream of a fair-a beautiful face- =To me it made all things bright- Dream of kissing my beautiful love, ='Neath the mistletoe berries white. Memories, memories, come to me now, =My thoughts for a little beguile, Memories sweet of that Christmastide =Linger a little while. Linger, and let me in fancy feel =Soft arms about my neck; And in fancy smell the roses red, =Which her golden hair bedeck. Lustrous eyes that looked into mine- =Eyes-wells of the azure hue- I thought as I gazed in their inmost depths =They could ne'er be aught but true. Lips that whispered of constancy, =While I in a foreign land Should work till Fortune showered on me =Gold, with a bountiful hand. Gold, which meant so much to me- =Gold to bring in its train- A home where she, my beautiful love, =As wife and queen should reign. My faith in her was strong and true, =Sweet hope shone bright as a star, My heart was full of trusting love, =To cheer me in lands afar. Memories, memories, come to me now, =Linger a little while; In that brief, bright fool's paradise =My heart ne'er thought of guile. Ah! how I worked in that far-off land. =Worked for a home for her, Endured the loneliness, toil and pain, =The hardships without demur. For a home of wealth and ease for her- =Worked both night and day- Worked till the oil felt dried in the joints, =And the bones seemed wearing away. And the end of it all in a letter came- =A pretty scented note- I kissed it o'er ere I broke the seal, =And these were the words she wrote:- Hoped I would find one worthier- =Forget her-and all the rest- A wealthier suitor had sought her hand, =And Ma-ma had thought it best. And this was the end-the end of it all- =The one great dream of my life, Had been that she, my beautiful love, =Would one day be my wife. Memories, memories, come to me now, =It was death in life to me then; But out of the chaos of ruined hopes, =I arose-a man among men. Endurance lived and weakness died, =A steadfast strength held sway; Despair's gaunt spectre fled, and left =A manlier man to-day. Now many have happy Christmastides, =From the lonely man to-night, For Age reached a higher, wider sphere, =Through the pain of Youth's heart-blight. And now the knowledge of duty done, =Brings calm, contented rest; The spirit, at last, hath victory won, =And I know what is, is best. MIGHT HAVE BEEN. A MOTHER-now childless-sits dreaming so lonely, =Thinking of baby once fair and serene; One moment of carelessness-drowned-oh, the hunger, =The pitiful yearning for what might have been. Hearts widely sundered, once beating in unison, =False pride robbed life of its glamour and sheen! Tho' hearts were so tender, the lips would not utter, =The one word, to blot out, this sad might have been. One glass-there's no harm-must be like other fellows, =If not, they would soon call me shabby and mean, One glass grew to many, the craving grew stronger, =Now a mother is weeping for what might have been. A cruel word spoken instead of forgiveness- =To many it only a trifle might seem- But it rankled, it poisoned, and sent to perdition, =A curse grew from the blessing that once might have been. Is it wise, is it right, this sad retrospection? =Ah! our souls it draws near to Thee, O Great Unseen! Then while it is so, let us not close our hearts to =The heartbreaking memory of what might have been. MY MUIRLAN' HAME. THOUGH cauld and bleak and lane, O! May be my muirlan' hame, O! When winter reigns supreme, O! =And Summer's bloom is gane. Yet wi' flocks and plaid and collie, O! My life is blythe and jolly, O! Far frae the world's folly, O! =My shiellin' stands alane; Inside it's clean and cosy, O! Love's flame burns in my bosie, O! For the wife I'll has sae rosy, O! =Ere mony months are gane. By my cot a burnie's rinnin', O! As ower the linn it's swingin', O! Memories sweet it's bringin', O! =O' her I've lo'ed sae lang; An' aye it's rinnin', rinnin', O! An' aye it's singin', singin', O! The Summer sweet is bringin', O! =A bride for you, my man; 'Mang muire and heather bells, O! 'Mang ferns and leafy dells, O! Strange tales to me it tells, O! =This emblem o' my life, My flocks feed on the muir, O! On lambs the cauld is sair, O! Here's a wee twin needin' care, O! =So in my plaid 'twill gang; The sicht o't ever cheers me, O! The wecht o't never wears me, O! The wee thing never fears me, O! =My ain, my tender lamb, Nae wealth nor fame I seek, O! But in my cot sae sweet, O! My bless will be complete, O! =When my sweet bride comes hame. MY WAYWARD SON. TEN years, ten long, long years, =Of weary, hungering pain, Ten years of wistful longing, Dick, =To clasp you once again. My bonnie, blue-eyed boy, =I always loved you best, Ah! why have you fallen in the fight, =While honoured all the rest? Your brothers' paths in life are bright, =With Honour's gifts strewn thick, Your path alone is dark and drear, =My lonely outcast Dick. My wilful, wayward boy, =My careless, kindly child, Far, far astray drink led you dear, =Drink and companions wild. When money, health, and friends are gone, =And hearts once warm grow chill, Remember, Dick, though all else fails, =Your mother loves you still. Each morning, Dick, with hope renewed, =I pray to God for thee; When twilight brings no word or sign =I pray more fervently, That He will guide you back once more, =To honour, right, and truth, And build up yet a manhood strong, =From wreck of wasted youth. With ten long years of hope deferred, =My aching heart is sick; Oh, God! let me yet welcome back, =A loved, repentant Dick. ONLY A TRAMP. THE gloom o' nicht was gatherin' fast, and deeper grew the drift, The clouds were scuddin' dark and fast, across the lowerin' lift, The shrill wind soughin' 'mang the trees, wi' mony a weary mane, Made me gratefu' for my comforts, for my fire, and cosy hame. But hark! a timid faltering knock; and when I reached the door, A sweet voice murmured-"Dinna blame, I never begged before, But oh! for this ae stormy nicht, oh! let me share your hame;" 'Twas a woman tramp, and to her breast, she pressed a puir wee wean. I took her in, and by the fire, she warmed her shiverin' bairn, The puir wee thing, sae numb wi' cauld, showed it had ill been fairin'; The mother's een grew dim wi' tears, her voice grew hoarse wi' pain, As piteously she prayed to heaven to spare her ae wee wean. 'Twas a sweet wee wean, though its lips were blue wi' bitter cauld and frost, 'Twas a sweet wee wean, though its wee pinched cheeks, their bloom thro' want had lost; When hushed to sleep on its mother's breast, she told me in mournfu' strain, The reason she was out on tramp, wi' her wee, helpless wean. "When my husband died a year ago, my friends a' turned their back, My work got scarce, my health broke doon, I couldna earn a plack. I married 'gainst my faither's will, sae he winna gie a hame Tae his ain dochter, noo on tramps wi' her wee helpless wean." I sheltered her a week or mair, till the storm had spent its strength, An' 'twas wi' a cheery smiling face, she started oot at length; Oh! 'twas blythe to see that sweet content, the place o' grief had ta'en, 'Twas blythe to hear "God bless you for your kindness to my wean." Oh! the way to be happy and blest, is to bless and make glad the puir, For the kinder you are to the broken-down, you lend to the Lord the mair, An' ilka kind deed that you do, you'll feel His blessin' sae free, Inasmuch as ye did it to that puir tramp, ye did it even to Me. OUR BABY. WAS there ever a baby so precious? =Was there ever a baby so sweet? From his locks so scanty and silken, =To his little frolicsome feet. He prattles away, in a language, =To all, except mother, unknown, Oh! why is our baby so precious? ='Tis because he is our very own. Our own babe to care for and cherish, =Our own babe to work for and love, A bud in Love's garland of roses, =Twining each to our Father above. What shall I wish for our baby? =Our darling! our beautiful boy! His tiny hand clasped on my finger, =Brings a strange, sweet, motherly joy. Shall I wish him broad lands and riches? =Like Solomon's grandeur of old; I would rather he were a disciple, =Gathering many into Christ's fold. I would wish him Paul's moral courage, =To bravely perform his part, And the best-the truest greatness- =The grace of God in his heart. PENITENCE. LORD, send me light, life's way is dark and dreary, =And rooks and thorns my stumbling footsteps stay, Oh! send me light to guide me to Thy mansions, =Without it, Lord, I will not find my way. Lord, send me faith, life's path is rough and rugged, =So rough and rugged, fears and doubts have I, Oh! send me faith, to trust in Thee completely, =To find Thee all in all, before I die. I know not, Lord, how soon life may be ended, =I know not how Thine angel, Death, may come, Wilt Thou but touch my heart and still its beating, =So, without warning, take my spirit home. Or wilt thou first send long, sad years of warning, =With weary days and wakeful nights of pain, Prepare my soul for entrance to Thy kingdom, =And make me meet, eternal life to gain? I do not know, but oh! I trust, I trust Thee, =What seemeth best, that wilt Thou do, oh Lord! Though faith be weak, light dim, and days be weary, =From out Thy strength, Thou wilt me help afford. My friends are few, life has been hard and lonely, =I need not wish on earth to longer wait, Yet there is in my breast a strange reluctance =To leave earth yet, for yonder golden gate. It is not fear, ah, no! I do not fear Thee, =How could I fear Thee, when Thou sent Thy Son, In Thy great love for us, to die, to save us; =I do not fear, Thy love, my love hath won! It is because I am ashamed to meet Thee, =I am so utterly unworthy, Lord, to come; In days gone by, I've thoughtless been and sinful, =I am not worthy Lord, of yonder spotless home. I closed my eyes to sights, sad, dark, and painful, =I closed my ears to cries, heartrending oft with pain I closed my hands from helping those who needed, =I closed my heart to love, and hunted ease and fame. But oh! dear Lord, Thou wilt forgive my sinning, =Thy boundless love will purify me now, For Jesus' sake, oh! make me holier, better, =Make me Thine own, and help me keep my vow. Thy strength, oh, Lord! make perfect in my weakness, =Thy purity will hide my sins so dark, Thy grace will conquer all that's wicked in me, =And with Thy love, dear Lord, renew my heart. ROUPED OUT. FAREWEEL my muirland hame! =My hame I lo'e sae weel, The sombre woods, the benty braes, =The cosy bien bit bield; The past was bright as yon sunshine =That glints within the glade, But, ah! the future seems as dark =As this fir plantin's shade. Nae mair my foot will tread the heath, =Nae mair my hand will pull The heather bells, or scented thyme- =Wae's me! my heart is full; To think that I maun leave for aye, =The braes that ance were mine, Leave the dear lands my father tilled =Thro' countless years of time. Leave a' my sheep and kye sae dear, =My collie dog sae true, The lambs I sheltered in my plaid, =When bitter cauld winds blew. The kye, wi' big soft gentle eyes, =Look waefu'-like and sad; And collie, too, kens something's wrang, =He whines at night sae bad. And you, my ain fleet faithfu' steed, =I maun leave even ye; To help to clear my honest name, =And pay each man his due. Oh! who will groom ye noo, my pet, =Or who your manger fill? Oh, Black Bess! may ye fa' 'mang friends =Who'll tend you wi' goodwill. Misfortune drives me forth to roam, =My muirland hame frae thee; Oh, gin I could but buy ye back =Again, before I dee, An' spend the gloamin' o' my life =Amang my native hills, To roam ance mair my ain dear braes, =Or rest by wimpling rills. For though there's lots o' work abroad, =And money's easy made; Ah me! they're no my ain dear woods, =Where oft in youth I strayed. Oh friends! if I should die out there, =Bring me back, ower the deep, To lie in Stra'ven's auld graveyaird, =Where my forefathers sleep. SNOWDROPS. 'TIS only a hunch of snowdrops, growing =Amid surroundings cold and hard, No cover of glass, or leafy screen, =Their delicate beauty guard. Shall we take those snowdrops pure =From their home on the snowy sward? Shall we send them with kindly care, =To some Infirmary ward? To cheer some lonely stricken one, =Who never can rest aright, But tosses, tosses in fretful pain, =From early morn till night. On fancy's pinions we will go, =To witness our snowdrops' greeting, Here is one o'er whose hardened face =A softened look is fleeting. He holds in his hand a snowdrop white, =(Nurse has given one of our best, Hoping to quiet a troubled mind, =And bring it a needed rest). Long he looks at the blossom white, =Then whispers in husky tone, 'Tis a snowdrop, nurse, a snowdrop, they grew =At the door of my mother's home. My mother, God bless her! from these sweet flower; =Full many a lesson taught, To be tender and pure, yet strong as they- =But her lessons-they came to naught. She was good, and true, and tender herself, =With a kindly word for all, She would break her heart if she only knew, =I am here through a drunken brawl. It is eighteen months since I saw her last, =It seems like a horrible dream, Oh, God! I feel mad whenever I think =Of the past, and what might have been! Remorse and shame now fill my heart, =Oh! can there forgiveness be? You say, "He who tended this snowdrop bloom, =Will forgive and care too, for me." Its petals are spread like an angel's wings, =As though it would soar above, And its golden eye seems to say to me, ="Be hopeful, for 'God is Love.'" Though the path of right be lonely and dark, =I'll be hopeful as onward I grope, For mother said oft, life's saddest state, =Was losing our "Blessed Hope." SOMEBODY. SOMEBODY'S left me here my lane, =Oh! fickle and false is somebody, Somebody's aff wi' anither gane, =Oh! wae take the day I met somebody. He is aff wi' anither to see her hame, =He maybe thinks he will get me again, Gin he comes, I'm thinkin', he'll woo in vain, =For I've had enough o' somebody. That I'll pine for want o' love's warm glow, =Is that the idea o' somebody? That I'll break my heart, oh, no! oh, no! =You're wrong, quite wrong, my somebody. I trow I will find another joe, =If Robin but asks, I winna say no, But off, for better or worse, I'll go, =And so, I'll be even wi' somebody. Three days gane, but what care I, =Though there's nae words yet o' somebody; The fourth day noo, is nearly by, =An' I wish I could see my somebody. I'm vexed I answered see short and dry, =When he told me to lay my flirtin' by, Life's no' worth ha'ein' when he's no' nigh, =Oh! I'm wearyin' sair for somebody. I saw you flirtin' wi' Robin Drew, =So spoke yestreen my somebody, A lesson I thocht I'd gie to you, =To be true to your ain somebody. Somebody laughed wi' een sae blue, =Somebody fondly pree'd my mou', I couldna speak, my heart was sae fu', =O' joy, to win back my somebody. STRAYED. ISA. LIII. 6. OH, Shepherd! I've strayed frae Thy fauld in Life's noonday, =I've struggled and strussled through treacherous wire, 'Mang briers an' 'mang brambles, fir branches, and dockens, =And aince I was nearly stuck fast in the mire. I've wandered sae weary, sae wat, an' sae draigled, =Ower rough grun' I've hirpled, until I'm dead lame, I noo understan' it's nae easier tholin', =To ken that it's only mysel' that's to blame. I was wayward an' weak, an' wilfully left ye, =I thocht the green pastures were comin' in view; An' sae I hae strayed, till I'm fairly forfochen, =My feet are a' sair, an' a' tangled my oo'. Up ower the hard road I stammered and stottered, =Sae lanely, sae lanely, I felt in the howe, As oot thro' the boggy moss-hags I ga'ed paidlin', =E'en welcome were collie doug's fearsome bow-wow. Oh, Shepherd! come hurstle me up on Your shouther, =Carry me hame to Your shelter aince mair; Lift me up canny, I'm weak an' a' tremblin', =My feet, heart, an' conscience are a' alike sair. The Shepherd had missed me, He socht lang an' weary, =He fand me at last, fair dune-a' alane; He welcomed me kindly, He lifted me gently, =He never aince hinted the blame was my ain. I'll sune noo be safe in the fauld, an' the brambles =Pu'd oot o' my oo', an' my achin' sairs dressed; I'll ne'er be sae lichtsome, sae giddy, sae thochtless, =I feel just a deep 'shamed longin' for rest. THE BELLS. TO the mourning, the bells seem chiming, =Chiming ever the sad sweet strain- Tired souls, tired souls, come to heaven, =Here is rest, here is balm for your pain. ==Does the church bell say, ==When it rings on Sabbath day? ==To the laggard, don't delay, ==Time is flying, come away; ==You are far from the gate, ==You are late, you are late! ==Soon you'll hear my last ring, ==Soon the pastor will go in, ==Then worship will begin, ==When "Warrington" they sing. ==Haste, oh, haste! don't delay, ==Time is passing, come away, ==The people cannot wait, ==Haste, oh, haste! don't be late. To the doubting the bells seem chiming, =Chiming ever the one refrain, Be of good cheer, if in Jesus you trust, =You never will trust Him in vain. ==To the prodigal its tone, ==Says, no longer wretched roam, ==Footsore, weary, and alone, ==Come home, come home, come home ==Be resigned unto His will, ==He will keep you from all ill, ==Hear ye restless, peace, be still, ==Come ye weak, find strength of will. ==God is love, God is love, ==Rings the bell high above, ==To His house onward move, ==And His loving kindness prove, ==You will feel His presence sweet, ==When you for His worship meet. To the weary the bells seem chiming, =Chiming ever their grandest, and best, Come unto Me, all ye weary and worn, =I give to the weary ones rest. THE SEASONS. SPRING. CHILDHOOD. SPRING with all her wondrous beauties, clothes each hill and field, Sheltered copse and leafy woodland, wealth of beauty yield, Primrose sweet and heavenly snowdrop, tiny violet, And tender ferns, each cosy nook, in perfect grandeur deck. The birds again their songs renew, now winter's storms are past, The blackbird full and mellow, and the laverock sweet and fast, The linnet seems so full of joy, 'tis like to choke with mirth, Oh! grateful birds ye give God thanks, for springtime's glorious birth. The lambkins! little innocents, are frisking o'er the lea, While by the brook their mothers' graze, or rest contentedly, Rest gentle ewes, frisk on young lambs, be free, be glad, be gay, For life in sunshine such as this, is one long holiday. But I must tell you sister, how we spent our time to-day, Oh! such a jolly time we had, of merriment and play, Jack Howard and his sister Nell, and I went to the copse, To gather pretty wildwood flowers, that grow among the oaks. Nell Howard gathered primroses, and pretty woodland thyme, Her favourite flowers, she culled nought else, but violets were mine, And tender ferns, I found them both, hid in a cosy nook, Between two rugged, gnarled oaks, that overhung the brook. Jack helped us both across the brook, then disappeared a while, Indeed he was away so long, he might have went a mile, At last, bareheaded, back he came, the soft breeze stirred his locks, And in his hand his cap he held, full of forget-me-nots. And Nell kept all her primroses and pretty woodland thyme, But Jack gave me full half his flowers, and I gave him half of mine, I'll keep Jack's blue forget-me-nots, till their sweetness dies away, In remembrance of the jolliest walk, I've had for many a day. The other half, I think I'll take to little lame Jane Yuill, She's been so sick the last three days, she could not come to school, She cannot run about like me, to gather pretty flowers, So my violets may cheer her up, and wile away sad hours. Oh! gay is Earth in Spring's new robes, so still the air and calm, It brings new health to sickly ones, to weary hearts a balm, So glad I feel, so full of joy, my heart God's praise will sing, For sending such a wealth of buds, and pretty flowers of Spring. And we are in Life's sweet Springtime, like buds of early Spring, We know not now, what flowers or fruits, futurity may bring, It may be that rich golden fruit, may crown our future years, It may be only blighted flowers, and sorrow's bitter tears. God grant that it may be, not only flowers, but fruits Of noble kindly deeds and words, and gentle loving looks, Oh! may we make the noblest use of the life our God has given, And bravely help each other on the upward way to heaven. THE SEASONS. SUMMER. LOVE. MOTHER EARTH in Summer glories, right gorgeous looks I ween, Flowers of every hue and fashion, bedeck her garments green, The brooklet shines like silver arrow, clasped upon her breast, And the sun is shining brightly, to make her look her best. The cattle, lazily content, browse 'neath the shady trees, The air is full of happy murmurings, from honey-laden bees, While from the copse, the songbirds are singing sweet and clear, They seem to sing, "be happy, there is nought but gladness here." And oh! I am so happy, happier than e'er before, Life seems fuller, richer, sweeter, earth seems fairer than of yore, You ask me why? dear sister! what magic makes it so? Ah! Jack Howard loves me; everything is brightened by love's glow. Oh! love, sweet love! it comes to us, like sunshine after storm, All selfish thoughts before it fly, 'tis surely heaven-born, Oh! truly they are blest indeed, to whom pure love is given, A satisfying peace it brings, a sweet foretaste of heaven. To-day, Jack Howard asked me, sister, to walk beside the brook, And so we went together to the sheltered cosy nook, 'Neath the two old gnarled oak trees, where the glossy woodbines twine, There we a happy trip played, in childhood's careless time. And a new, sweet joy, dear sister, thrilled all my being through, When Jack told me love's sweet story, so old, yet still so new, He says I am his only love, his beacon-star, his life, And I love him, so we plighted troth; I am his promised wife. He took from out his pocket-book, a bunch of withered flowers, The same I gave him long ago, in childhood's sunny hours, He says, full many, many a time, each little violet Has brought him hope and comfort, when at night he paced the deck. He is first mate now, but hopes ere long he will have full command Of a noble ship of his very own, and a gallant sailor band, And I promised, darling sister, as Love's greeting pressed each lip, Captain Howard's second voyage should be our honeymoon trip. Oh! Life is full and beautiful, and fair and bright is earth; The love that surges in my heart, has given joy new birth, A deeper, fuller happiness, than words can e'er express, I maybe love too well, but oh! I cannot love him less. Love is the best, the highest gift, that e'er to earth came down, Man's faithful love is surely here, of woman's life the crown; I'll try to be a helpmeet true, the tenderest, best of wives, And shed some of our happiness, on other lonelier lives. And Jack will give me with his love, strength and stability, And I will give him tenderest care and warmest sympathy; Between us we may yet do much, e'er Life's brief race be run, To bring some joy to other lives, and help "God's kingdom come." THE SEASONS. AUTUMN. PASSING AWAY. AUTUMN'S golden leaves are falling, whirling in the chilly air, Autumn winds sigh eerily, 'mong the boughs so gaunt and bare, Summer's bloom is past and gone; gone each bud and flow'ret gay, Failing too, this feeble frame, like flowers, I too, must pass away. Passing away from this beautiful earth, from each happy bower and glade, 'Twas dear to my heart in the sweet springtime, in it's bridal robes arrayed, 'Twas dear to me still in the summer time, with its blossoms in bountiful store, But the birds will sing, and the flowers will bloom on earth, for me, no more. I loved it in Autumn's russet dress, when into the old stackyard The golden grain was safely stored, and our Harvest-Home was heard; Then into the kitchen bright we went, and danced with might and main; But I'll never share in the innocent joys of the Harvest-Home again. Was it wrong to love it in Winter, when the poor were so hungry and cold? To feel a wild joy when over the earth, the storms in their fury rolled; Yet I felt a wild joy in those fierce wild blasts, for they showed me the power of God; They will show it yet! but I will not hear them, beating above the sod. Never again, in the garden old, will I roam 'mong my flow'rets sweet, When the snowdrop and crocus peep out from the snow, some other one they'll greet, Some other hand when the spring comes back, will train my roses up to the eaves; In the Summer's heat some other hand, will water their drooping leaves. Never again, at the sunset grand, will my heart with rapture glow; Never again will I dream by the brook, with its ever-musical flow; Never again, 'mong my roses sweat, will I waken my trembling lyre; Never again in the woodland bowers, will I listen to Nature's choir. Will you lay me to rest, dear sister, on the knoll by Dunavon wall? That the golden rays of the setting sun, on my lonely grave may fall; Will you plant a border of coral, with an old blush rose between? Ah! sister, you scarcely can know, how dear my flowers to me have been. But I'm passing away from them all. Passing away from friends, from life; And sister, I loved Jack Howard, and promised to be his wife, The very first time he came back again, with his good ship "Ocean Wave!" Ah! sister, instead of his bride, poor Jack, will only find her grave. Oh, Jack! my own dear Jack! I will never see him more; Oh! could we but take one last farewell, the parting would be less sore; But Jack will come back with his heart aglow, with expectant love and pride, Little dreaming that Death has cut down, in his absence, his promised bride. Oh! could I but live for a little while-but live till Jack comes home, If only to whisper-"good-bye, dear Jack, do not grieve when I am gone;" But oh! for one fond farewell kiss; oh! to feel his warm breath on my cheek; Oh! to gaze but once in his soul-lit eyes, that heart to fond heart might speak. But 'tis vain to long for one fond look, to yearn for one clasp of the hand, Jack's little love will be laid in the grave, long ere he reaches land, Oh! Father in Heaven, comfort him, when his hopes are, crushed and dead, Soothe Thou his aching heart, and lead him, even as I have been led. Lead him to bow to Thy holy will, to rely upon Thee alone, To hope for a happier meeting above, where parting is unknown; Oh! be Thou his hope and his guide, oh! God, till Life's brief race be run, Teach him to say from his heart-Oh! God, Thy will, not mine be done. Farewell to my dear old home, farewell to my pets and flowers; Farewell to my sailor lover-Love's brief sweet dream was ours; Farewell to thee, darling sister, in the hush of each dying day, Let fond memory give one thought dear, to the loved one passed away. THE SEASONS. WINTER. DEAD. 'TWAS a wild and stormy Christmas Eve, the snowflakes whirled fast Against the trees, that groaned and shrieked defiance to the blast; Within the harbour safely lay, Jack Howard's "Ocean Wave;" But Jack, a lonely stricken man, knelt by his loved one's grave. The shrieking wind, with fury, clad the tombstones o'er with snow, And covered, as with winding-sheet, the loved of long ago; Jack heeded not, though darkening skies a shroud around him spread, He reeked not now for aught on earth-his little love was dead. Though wild winds shrieked, though snow fell fast, Jack felt no cold or pain, In fancy, he was living o'er, his childhood's days again; Long, long ago, it seemed, since they had rambled to the copse, When she had gathered violets, and he, forget-me-nots. And memory brings yet sweeter scenes; the vision now in view, Is maiden fair, of graceful form, and hair of golden hue, He eyes like blue forget-me-nots, are lit with love and joy, As with hands clasped, she plights her troth, with him, her sailor boy. Those bright dreams fade. Remembrance brings pain-fur-rows to his brow; Ah! underneath that cold wet earth, his love is lying now, The playmate of his childhood's years, his manhood's only love, While he is left alone, alone, life's thorny ways to rove. Oh, art thou gone? he cried aloud, my little love so true Is memory and this cold stone, now all I've left of you? Must I ne'er clasp that form again, ne'er touch those lips with mine, Ne'er read thy pure heart's inmost thoughts, thro' those bright orbs of thine. What's wealth, or fame, or life to me, when thou art gone sweetheart? With your pure love, I would have tried to act life's noblest part; In your cold grave, ambition, hope, and love lie buried there, Their place within my breast is filled with grief,, and wild despair. Last trip I gathered trophies quaint from many a coast and clime, To deck your cabin bright and fair, and fond sweet dreams were mine, I thought, that as my bride, you'd sail next trip, in "Ocean Wave,"- Oh! love! it is too hard, too hard, to find nought but your grave! Come back! Come back! oh love come back! but ah! my cry is vain- Earth will not give you back to me, Death will not lose his chain- And yet you prayed, love, ere you died, that God would lead me on, As you were led, and comfort me, dear, after you were gone. Forgive me love this bitterness, this grief so deep and sore, I thought but of you, little love, as lost for evermore; I had forgotten, dear, the hope that we should meet again, Forgotten God, forgotten Heaven, forgotten all but pain. I will try hard, to walk aright, the path my Saviour trod, To follow in His steps, the path that leads to Truth and God; 'Tis hard, so hard to lose you dear, and yet God knoweth best, Maybe, to draw me nearer Him, He took you home to rest. Sweetheart beside your grave I vow, to live a worthier life, In your cold bed, you will not see me conquer in the strife; But not here now you lie sweetheart, beneath this snow-clad sod. Ah! no! through the river of Death, you have steered, right into the port of God. THE SOUL OF THE POET. HAVE others the waves of emotion =Which the soul of the Poet feels? The mingling of peace and wild unrest, That surges oft in his throbbing breast, The thoughts that are only half-expressed, =When away his loved muse steals? Have others the passionate longing =Which the soul of the Poet knows? The passionate longing that sorrow may cease, The passionate cry for the soul's release, The stretching-out for the City of Peace, =As onward and upward he goes? Have others the perilous moments =Which darken the Poet's soul? The sinking low in the depths of despair, The hopeless groping in helplessness there, Forgetting that earth is bright and fair, =And Our Father's home the goal? Have others the glad uplifting =That dawns on the Poet's soul? The touch divine, the ecstacy sweet, The life so full, rich and complete, 'Tis then that earth and heaven meet, =Love-leavened is the whole? Oh! give the the soul of the Poet, =Its blending of joy and pain; The moments of sunshine well repay, For clouds which darken Life's devious way, New faith, new hope, comes day by day, =And troubles frown in vain. THOUGHTS BY THE WAY. THE day was dull and scowry, =Grey clouds hid the winsome blue, But a gleam of sunshine by-and-bye, =The clouds came glintin' through. A' nature smiled a welcome, =Birds piped and sang wi' glee, The flowers spread their beauties, =The sunny blink to see. When misfortune clouds our pathway, =And our hearts are faur frae gay, Life seems to us a weary fecht, =Just aye speelin' up the brae. Then when we're wae and dowie, =And our hearts maist like to sink, The cheery word, the kindly deed, =Is o' life the sunny blink. A warm and kindly hand-clasp, =A word o' sympathy true, Gars the load row frae our hearts, =And we straucht oursel's up anew; And gang on wi' a new bright energy, =That naething will daunt ava'; It puts grit in our hearts, and worries =To earth just cannily fa'. Life whiles seems but a weary fecht, =The guid whiles up, whiles down; Oh! Heaven bring up a' the guid in me, =And let it my womanhood crown. I hardly ken what's right, what's wrang, =What I should or shouldna dae, I grope in the dark, and wonder whiles, =Whaur the misty ways lead tae. Though weary aft wi' the endless fecht, =And the clouds I canna dispel, I'll trust; and still in my heart I'll say, ="He doeth all things well." Oh! Son aboon, shine down wi' Thy smile, =Shine down thro' the clouds so grey, And lead us hame thro' darkness and doubt, =To the sunshine o' endless day. TO QUEEN VICTORIA. JUNE 22nd, 1897. WE love and revere you, Victoria, our Queen, =For your loving heart and true; You have been Queen of the wives and mothers, =You are Queen of the women too. Far away to Africa's sunny clime, =Your sovereign powers extend; Australia's hardy sons, are proud =To claim you as their friend. The Maoris from New Zealand's isles, =The Sepoys from torrid zone, And warm hearts from Canadian snows, =Your sovereignty proudly own. Your army defends your people by land, =Your battleships rule the sea; The sun on your kingdom never sets, =And yours is the land of the free. Your people are free-free to enjoy =The freedom of Freedom for aye; Freedom of conscience, freedom of speech, =Freedom to worship, and pray. No need now to meet in the glens, =Where the martyrs' graves grow green, We are free to worship the King of Kings, =With our own beloved Queen. For sixty long years, you have wisely ruled, =And bravely performed your part; Genius, with outspread wings, hath soared =In literature, science, and art. Peace and progress sped hand in hand, =Firm friends in a long swift race; Invention, with industry, followed on, =And knowledge hath spread apace. We quickly traverse our native land, =With cycle or motor car; The telephone and the telegraph waft =The news to our friends afar. Gas brings power, warmth, and light, =Ease too, and home felicity, More wonderful still, will the future be, =When man can tame electricity. Improvements in railway and steamship, too, =And the wonderful printing-press; Each peasant now, if of willing mind, =To knowledge may gain access. Long live your Majesty! may your reign =Be peaceful, as it hath been, May health and comfort, in boundless store, =Be yours, our honoured Queen. Your country at peace with other Powers, =Your subjects, loyal and true, And loving and loved ones, ever near, =To tend and gladden you. Not all gay music, was life: full oft =You have heard the funereal tune- You have known the gloom of December days, =As well as the brightness of June. Remember, my Queen, in December days, =When you mourn 'neath the sombre yew, That loyal subjects you know not of, =Sympathise and grieve with you. Your nation's sons for ages to come, =Will keep your memory green- Victoria the Good, Victoria the Pure; =The wise and beloved Queen. TO THE CURLEW. OH, Curlew! strong-winged Curlew! =Welcome, welcome back again; The spring is surely comin', =When you've left your winter hame; At the sea-shore when the tide has ebbed, =Out on the sands you walk; For toothsome bite, your thanks you gi'e, =Wi' whaup, whaup, whaup. When winter snaws ha'e melted, =An' spring flowers are peepin' thro', Ere Mother Nature dons again =Her mantle green and new, You tak' wing frae fashion's centre, =Nane can your journey baulk; Here ye nest amang the heather, =Wi' your whaup, whaup, whaup. Your sang has variations, =A low whaup you gi'e at first, Then louder, stronger, shriller, =Till wi' final, grand-outburst; While descending to the heather =(As we watch you here and talk) A tirlin', tirlin', tirlin', ends =Your whaup, whaup, whaup. Some ca' ye an ungainly bird- =Sae awkward, lean, and plain- But I think you just a beauty, =Wi' a style that's a' your ain; Wi' your speckled breast, and bill so long =Oh, Curlew you're quite a fop! Liftin' spindle-legs sae primly, =Wi' a whaup, whaup, whaup. I dinna like to hear you whaup =Across the laigh green grun; I ken you're prophesyin', =That the rain will quickly come. When at hay-time we are busy, =An' want na' to be caught, Keep up amang the heather, =Wi' your whaup, whaup, whaup. Langsyne, when but a lassie, =When first I found your nest, Three bonnie eggs in mossy bed, =You hoped they'd cosy rest; But thochtlessly I took them, =Then your sang to me was fraught, Wi' a weird an weary wailin', =In your whaup, whaup, whaup. Now I'll gie you kindly welcome, =When you come to us in spring, You may safely rear your nurslin's, =An' teach them to take wing; Fareweel we'll say, when sportsmen =Thro' the purple heather stalk, An' you take your leave for Cardross, =Wi' your whaup, whaup, whaup. TO THE OLD YEAR. FAREWELL, old year, farewell! =Thou art dying, dying now; Shall we make of laurel or of yew, =A wreath to crown thy brow Shall we part from thee in sadness =With longing and regret, Or eager haste to greet the new, =With glad unfaltering step? Are we glad that thou art dying, =With thy sorrows and thy sins? Do we hope for something brighter, =When the coming year begins? Do we hasten towards the future, =Hurrying present into past, Little doing, little caring, =Although time flies so fast? Ah, no! old year; I'm sorry =Thy end is drawing near, I am sorry how unkindly, =I have treated thee, old year; Precious minutes, golden hours =Idled carelessly away, Opportunities of doing good, =Missed by weak delay. I am sad at parting with thee, =For the pleasures thou hast brought, Gleams of brightest sunshine came, =Unlooked for, and unsought. Faith, hope and love their blessings gave, =To make life's pathway bright; And friendship lent a kindly hand, =To make my burdens light. I would thank thee, too, dear old year, =For the sorrows thou didst bring; Though they seemed bitter at the time, =They brought me nearer Him. They made life fuller, richer, =They widened sympathies, That narrow grow, when only fed =On joys and memories. What wilt thou leave behind thee, =To keep thy memory green? Surely-more than vain regrets =Of things that might have been. Surely some small seeds ot kindness, =Have been scattered by our hand, That in after years will ripen, =And bring forth a harvest grand. Hast thou, old year, recorded =Upon the page of time, The natal day of hero great, =Or noble heroine? The coming of some wondrous sage, =Whose words of truth and fire, Shall quicken many hearts for good, =And raise man's standard higher? Farewell to thee! dear old year, =Thy last sun soon will set; Oh! I would that thou couldst linger, =A little longer yet. Farewell to thee-a last farewell- =Thy last hour draweth near; May new faith, new hope, and charity, =Bring in the coming year. TRUST. OH, FATHER! at Thy footstool meekly kneeling, =In deep contrition low I bow my head, Forgive, I trust-I trust in Thee completely; =The fears and all the torturing doubts are dead. So long-so long and hard was the refining! =I grew rebellious 'neath Thy chastening rod, I called Thee not a God of love and mercy, =I thought Thee oft an unjust, angry God. Forgive the thoughts, the weakness, the rebellion, =The wilfulness that drove me far from Thee; The doubts are gone-I trust Thee, oh, my Father! =In all things now, do as Thou wilt with me. Oh, Giver great! so strong, so calm, so holy, =Thy heart o'erflows with tenderness and love; Look down and bless our home among the moorlands, =Give us a foretaste of Thy home above. Now thro' the fire, in sight of Death's dark river, =I only feel a tranquil calm and rest, For now I know in all Thy dealings with me, =Ye did in wisdom always what was best. TWILIGHT THOUGHTS. THE day's work is done, and I sit here alone, By the side o' the burn, on a big mossy stone, And muse on the time, when the covenant men Stood up for their worship, in muirland and glen. Away in the distance the brown heather waves, Maybe 'tis above some poor martyrs' graves, Who were slaughtered to satisfy Tyranny's will, And then laid to rest on you heather-clad hill. The wind gently sighs at the close o' the day, And to my wild fancy, it trills this strange lay- "Oh, praise nature's God, who so bounteously fills This earth with the beauties of flow'rets and rills." The sun's sinking down to his bed in the west, His last rays are gilding Dungavel's brown crest; Oh! the scene is so lovely, my happy heart thrills, With pride, when I gaze on the Avondale hills. 'Twas there that the strong man, the aged, the south, Gave up all their comforts for God and the truth, And wandered so weary o'er muirlands and rills, Like sore-hunted hares on the Avondale hills. But the Lord gave them strength, the Lord gave them grace He took them all home to a far better place; =Now they glorify Him, they are free from the ills, =And troubles they met 'mong the Avondale hills. How different 'tis now! when the Sabbath comes roun', We worship in safety in auld Stra'ven toun; =Oh! my heart wi' new reverence and thankfulness fills, =When I think on that worship 'mong Avondale hills. But 'tis over! no more now Oppression's flag waves, No more honest men find unmarked mossy graves; =For God has removed all the bigoted wills, =That hindered His worship 'mong Avondale hills. WEARIN' AWA'. SHE is wearin' awa', she is noo dwinin' fast, =No mony mair weeks can my puir lammie last; She's the flower o' my flock, an' my best help at hame, =Since her faither, puir man, to his long rest was ta'en. Weel I mind that sad time, it commenced ae spring mornin' =But it wasna like spring's balmy weather ava, For the wind through the nicht had enshrouded a' nature, =And still wove his weo wi' the big flaffs o' snaw. The guidman had gane oot at the first streak o' dawnin', =In haste to look after the sheep on the hill; A' day wat and weary he sought oot the lambkins; =And at nicht he came hame, lookin' weary and ill. "Sic a Spring, Jean" he said, "I ne'er saw a' my lifetime, =To see the puir lambkins, wad gar your heart turn; And my five best tup lambs, that I brocht to the meadow, =To fen' better there, are a' drooned in the burn." "Six lambs hae been born in th~ nicht-time, and syne dee'd, =Sae bitter's the cauld, and the drift on the hill; And a ewe has got smoored on the edge o' the muirland; =But we maunna complain, wife, ye ken it's His will. I was wae for the ewes that had lost their wee lambkins, =I was wae for the helpless wee things newly-born; But what was that loss, to the sad one that followed? =For by Death my guidman frae my bosom was torn. Wi' a short, nasty cough, he'd been bothered a' winter, =But it grew unco bad wi' that storm in the spring, Sae ailing he lingered, till autumn's first frost-nip, =Then his spirit, to happier regions took wing. Oh! sair, sair my heart, and sae empty my life seemed, =When they'd borne my guidman, to the auld kirkyaird; Had it no' been for leavin' five helpless bit bairnies, =Fu' fain I'd lain down, and his lanely grave shared. But, 'twas Nellie first made me ashamed o' repinin', =She said, "Dinna grieve, mother, though faither is gane; He is better by far, wi' our heavenly Faither, =Than lingering wi' us, in continual pain." Ay, ay! 'twas His will, and I had been grudgin', =To see Him tak' hame, what He first had sent doun', Had been grudgin' John leavin' earth's trials and struggles, =For his well-won reward in the bright land aboon. Wae's me! I was selfish, but oh! life was dreary, =Sae dreary and bleak, and my heart was sae sair, To think on the long lanesome years that were comin', =When I'd see his dear face nevermair, nevermair. Nell has been my best worker, my best friend and comfort, =Wi' her faither's lang illness, our savings were spent; But wi' hard work an' savin' we've got along bravely, =Though we had a sair struggle, at first, wi' the rent. But now, my puir Nellie, my heart's dearest treasure, =Is wearin' awa' to the hame o' the blest; She says she's nae pain, but just tired and weary, =Just tired and weary, and longin' for rest. Puir Nell! she'd a lover-a weel-daein' farmer- =An' gin hairst, she was gaun as his bride to Hilltop, But last spring, ridin' hame, his horse stumbled and threw him, =An' his head struck the brig-he was killed on the spot. When Nell heard the news, she gasped "Robin," then fainted, =An' her cheeks, red as roses, grew white as the snaw; She never complains, she's aye patient and cheery; =But since then she has just aye been wearin' awa'. Even the Doctor, though hardened wi' seem' much trouble, =Last time he was here, frae his e'e wiped a tear, An' whispered, "Consumption, no hope, my good woman; =She is too like an angel to live with us here." Wae's me! for the frost that comes nippin' sae keenly, =An' causes our sweetest bit flow'rets to droop, Wae's me! for the blossoms by death cut sae early, =Sae early cut down, ere they've time to be fruit. Wae's me! for the lives left sae empty an' cheerless, =Wae's me! for the hearts left sae lanely an' sair; Oh! we long to depart frae this world o' sorrow, =To the "Land o' the Leal," for our dear ones are there. We long to leave earth wi' its sickness and pairtin's, =For His ain promised land, where we'll dwell evermair, Lord, make us resigned to await Your ain guid time, =To ca' us a' hame, to rejoice wi' Ye there. WEARIN' UP THE BENT. PROP me up a wee bit higher, wife, that I ance mair may see, The sun sink doun ahint Muirhead, in glorious majesty; The west is a' ae golden glow, the east is rosy red, Wi' the sunbeams a' athwart the sky, like han's in blessin' spread. Ay, like han's spread oot to bless us, ere it seeks anither clime, Isna' the sunset grand guidwife? just wonderfu'! sublime! See you twa clouds, like massive hills, wi' outline firm and bold, This ane seems lined wi' silver, yon ane wi' burnished gold. 'Twas in this muirlan' hame, guidwife, whaur first I saw the licht, An' noo at nearly fourscore years, I'll soon see life's last nicht; The sweetest hours o' a' my life, at this window I ha'e spent, Watchin' the sheep at sunset, gaun' wearin' up the Bent. Mony long an' happy days we've had, guidwife, thegither, An' a' our burdens and our joys, we shared wi' ane anither, I've had mony mercies, but ye've been the best that Heaven e'er sent; Prop me up, I like to see the sheep, gang wearin' up the Bent. To other climes the sun at last, his chariot has driven, Isna' the glow that's left just like an open door o' Heaven, Sae peacefu' a' things seem, this is earth's sweetest spot I've kent, I like to watch the sheep at e'en, gaun' wearin' up the Bent. Our auldest son is steady noo an' lives the best o' lives, Our dochters are, I'm proud to say, contented, happy wives; Our youngest, I oft think o' him, to foreign lands he went, He used to coont the sheep at e'en, gaun' wearin' up the Bent. I wonder gin he's leevin' noo, our Dave, our youngest born, I wonder gin that settin' sun, will shine on him ere morn, I wonder gin he's thinkin' noo, in faur-off squatter's tent, O' our sheep in bonnie Scotland, gaun' wearin' up the Bent. But there, guidwife, I'm grievin' ye, I ken your heart is sair, I ken, ye think, that noo on earth, we'll never see him mair, But dinna grieve for him, for weel ye ken, 'twill no be lang, Until aboon we meet and sing, God's universal psalm. For I am auld, and frail, and weak, I'm gey wed doun the brae, Your ance quick step is feeble, too, your hair is thin and grey, Life's journey's drawin' to a close, but oh! I'm weel content, Prop me up, that I may see the sheep, ance mair gang up the Bent. Life has been long an' sweet, guidwife, but sune my rest I'll win, Na! na! it winna be for lang, that you'll be left ahin', Ye'll bear the pairtin' bravely, lass, ye'll no' ha'e long to wait, I'll be ready there, to welcome you, within the golden gate. WEAVING. GAILY I wove awhile, =with merry jest and song, Oh! why so blind as not to find =The whole design was wrong? Weaving, weaving, weaving, =Weaving ever, Life's webs, And oh! I fain would turn my back =On this mass of tangled threads! I am tired of the dark dull grey, =And the intricate pattern too, I long for the gold in the pattern of old, =So simple, so bright, and true. Weaving, weaving, weaving, =Weaving ever my web, For the good strong web, I meant to weave, =I have only mistakes instead. I would rather leave it all, =With its failures manifold, Than gather the threads of a wasted web, =With its tangles and breaks, untold. Weaving, weaving, weaving, =But then, 'twere a cowardly act, To leave it all, I must gather the threads, =And leave my web, intact. Oh! for patience to live and weave- =To battle amid the strife- Oh! for strength of heart to take up again, =The threads of a broken life. Weaving, weaving, weaving, =Weaving ever Life's webs, I faint, I falter, I shrink to begin, =To gather the tangled threads. Though mistakes so many I've made, =I shall do good weaving yet, The finish may help to repair the mistakes, =And deaden a vain regret. Weaving, weaving, weaving, =Oh! for courage, courage again, To show I can weave to some purpose still, =And life is not all in vain. WED. DEAR JEANIE, I maun let ye ken, That Tam has left his bachelor den, And joined the ranks o' married men- =A Benedict is he. I've said farewell to spinsterhood, An' marriage! I pronounce it good- Example tak', (I think ye should), =I'm happy as can be. For years I'd been the beacon-star, He loved an' worshipped frae afaur, When love 'gainst fear had won the war, =He socht me for his wife. Alack-a-day! what could I say I I had'na muckle love to gie, He pled, I wadna' say him, "nay," =Guidsakes, 'twould end his life! He likes'na whisky, wine, nor gin, He did'na court anither ane, While he had hopes he'd aiblins win ="Yours truly," for his ain. He said he'd gie me every care, He'd love me true for evermair, Gin I wad but his fortunes share, =I wad'na trust in vain. He got a hoose fu' snug an' trim, I named the day, an' wore his ring, An' time flew by on gowden wing, =But hush'! I own to you; When near the time I shook, oh lor! It was for better or for waur, I wad drawn back, but did'na daur, ='Twas ower late to rue. The day cam' roun', the sun shone fine, The parson cam' an' spoke divine, An' ilka ane was there in time, =The bridesmaid's dress was pink. An' I was dressed in silver grey, An' looked my very best, they say, But Tam was a' I saw that day, =My wits I fairly tint. 'Deed ay! I fairly lost my heid, The marriage lines, I could'na read, I scarcely kent the roast frae bread, ='Deed I could scarcely see. I saw'na wha was grand or braw The speeches sounded faur awa, I was richt glad to leave it a', =An' close my e'en a wee. I wonder noo what feared me then To marry Tam, for this I ken, My Tam is noo my king o' men, =He has'na loved in vain. When Fortune's pearls prove only paste Tam's arm slips kindly roun' my waist, His lips an' mine love's nectar taste, =Delight is oors again. WHEN I'M TA'EN AWA'. OH! Jeanie when I'm ta'en awa', =Ye manna greet ower sair, Just tell your troubles a' to God, =And He'll the burden share. For though ye ken He's richt to tak' =Me frae this world o' sin, Your heart will be maist like to break =When the hearse they put me in. A solemn thing it is, to see =The horses come in black, Wi' hearse to tak' our loved awa', =And never bring them back. The horses black, the hearse a' black, =The coffin black an' a', But I in Heaven will be robed =In raiment white as snaw. Ye'll follow to the kirkyaird, Jean =And lay my head to rest, And the gowane that I lo'e sae weel =Will grow aboon my breast. They'll grow and bloom sae sweetly, =Wi' the first warm breath o' spring; And the laverock in the fleecy lift, =His mornin' sang will sing. But we'll hae a better, sweeter sang, =In Heaven, whaur soon I'll gang, I too, will join the choir and sing, ="Oh! worthy is the Lamb." Oh! Worthy Lamb, 'twas for our sins, =That He His life laid down; He bore His cross on earth, but now =He reigns in realms aboon. Oh! dinna, dinna sab sae sair, =I canna bear ava', To think wi' God you'd angry be, =For takin' me awa', Just trust in God, Jean, trust in God, =Now wherefore should ye swither, Was He no unco kind Jean, =To gie us to each ither. But soon, now, soon we'll need to part, =My leal, true-hearted wife, Then let's thank the Lord, for guidin' us =Through a' our earthly life. Sing ance again, "Abide wi' me =Thro' life and death, Oh Lord!" Then read-we aye get comfort, Jean- =Frae His ain Holy Word. WHEN MY GUIDMAN COMES HAME. THOUGH work I may hae plenty, =I'm as happy as can be, For love mak's labour easy, =When for man and bairnies three; Though siller may be scanty, =Though grandeur we hae nane, I'm the happiest wife in Avondale, =When my guidman comes hame. Was I no worried thro' the day =Wi' a chimney that wad reek, An' my youngest bairn wi' teethin, =Sae cross and ill to keep? But though I've worries thro' the day =At nicht they a' are gane, Troubles vanish quick at gloamin' =When my guidman comes hame. We pairted ance in anger, =Weel I mind that morning yet, I was cross an' spoke sae angrily, =He left me in the pet; But through the day oor anger cooled, =An' oh! were we no fain, To mak' it up at gloamin', =When my guidman cam' hame? I'll work awa' fu' cheerily, =To mak' things look their best; I want his hame to be to him, =A hame o' peace an' rest; An' when at nicht his work is dune, =I'd like him unco fain To join his wife an' bairnies, =In a happy, happy, hame. Come bairnies let me wash your face, =An' smooth your curly hair, Then han'-in-han' gang up the brae, =An' meet your faither there; Noo Isa tak' him by the han', =Guide him roun' ilka stane; Ye'll get a carry back, dear son, =For faither's comin' hame. My baby's sleeping in her cot =Fu' soun' and quietly noo, A winsome smile is hoverin' =Around her bonnie mou' Deep in my heart there is a joy, =A bliss I canna name- Love's glamour gilds the gloamin' yet, =When my guidman comes hame. WILDFLOWERS. WELCOME! welcome little wildflowers! =Oh! I gladly welcome you, How you brighten field and wayside =With your flowers of every hue. Bird's-foot trefoil, and Tormentil, =Give the bank a golden glow, While delicious fragrance scents the air =Where Thyme and Violets grow. Here the Bugle, with unbending head, =And gown of darkest blue, Stands stiff and straight, as if to say, =Though dull I've beauty too. And the Eyebright or Euphrasy nods- =And seems to say I know- Where my friends, the little Milkworts, =In four different colours grow. Where the pretty Wood-Anemone, =Waved in the April wind, The Ragged Robin, Reniform, =And "Lady's Smock" we find; The Orchis, and the Silver Weed, =The star-like Stitchwort white, And the twining field Convolvulus, =That closes up at night. There, on a dry and rocky ridge, =The Hawkweed Pieris grows, The Harebells too, and Scabious sway, =With every breeze that blows; So low they bow their slender stems, =To let the wild wind pass, Then dance and shake their pretty heads, =O'er Gowan-spangled grass. Here the pretty Speedwell family lives, =They always dress in blue, The Germander, Procumbent, =And the Brook-lime Speedwell too; We know all their numerous family, =For each one stands this test, The lower segment of each bloom, =Is narrower than the rest. Here too, the Bedstraw and the Milfoil, =And the fragrant Meadow-sweet; Wood-sorrel and Forget-me-nots, =There seek a snug retreat. And yonder waves the bonnie Broom, =And clinging Tufted Vetch, While in the marsh the Rattles red =Their fern-like leaves out-stretch. Bloom on, bloom on, ye Wildflowers, =Bloom all the livelong day; Bring us kindly thoughts and tender, =To cheer us on our way! Ye are lovely, ye are varied, =Ye are all within our reach; And manifold and wise and true, =Are the lessons that ye teach. WILDWOOD NOTES. DAME NATURE, I hae rambled out =This bonnie simmer day, An' lyin' by the Calder's side, =I watch the trouts at play. An' some are baskin' in the sun, =A word! and they are gane, Some jink aboot, aye in an' oot =The cove o' mossy stane. A fox-glove rears its bonnie bells, =Where coltsfoot leaflets gleam, Its ain reflection it admires, =In Calder's crystal stream. A jenny-wren comes happin' ower =A bed o' basil thyme, Dame Nature o' your odds an' ends, =I'll weave a muirlan' rhyme. A laverock tak's his sang o' praise =Richt up to Heaven's gate; A corn-craik amang the hay, =Says "craik, craik, craik!" The golden plover's eerie cry, =Aye somehow saddens me, The chirrin' o' the paitrick is =A sweeter melody. Here cosily on grassy bank, =Is dear wee robin's nest, Five eggs a' streaked as if they'd rubbed =The colour off his breast. The mavis' sang comes trillin' forth, =Wi' mirth an' gladness fraught, A curlew next comes sailin' by, =Wi' whaup, whaup, whaup! Dame Nature ye hae riches rare, =An' gems at ilka turn, I'm rested noo, I think I'll tak' =A daun'er up-the burn. A water-ousel washes weel =Black coat an' snawy vest, A sandy laverock flutters near, =To wile me frae her nest. I like the muircock's challenge, =An' the swallow's twitterin' notes, An' a' the varied harmonies =That come frae feathered throats,. A water-hen is hidin' where =The iris waves her flags, Some teal-ducks hurry frae the burn, =To hide amang moss-hags. The birr o' snipes zig-zaggin' comes =Like sough o' autumn win', A rabbit cockin' wee white tail, =His burrow scurries in. The blackbird's voice is mellow, =The lintie's sang is sweet, But a hameliness enriches =Pe-weet, pe-weet, pe-weet! The starlin' mocks the swallow, =The gowk her young has tint, A shilfa seeks his wanderin' mate, =Wi' twint, twint, twint! Dame Nature, ye are bonnie, =Your choir uplifts the soul, Your many voices blended, =Make one harmonious whole. YOU AND I. JUST you and I together, love, =What would life be to me? Why a life of bliss unspeakable, =Serene as summer sea! Just you and I together, love, =All doubts and fears would fly, Life would be one long poem, love, ===Just you and I! Just you and I together, love, =If your heart beat true to mine, What though winter wild enshrouded all, =Though spring her flowers should tine; In our hearts we'd still have sunshine, =And though trouble's waves beat high, We'd bravely stand together, love, ===Just you and I. Worldly wisdom gives her head a shake, =They will live on love she sneers; What care I for the world's frowns, =Its coldness, scorn, or jeers? With you beside me always, love, =Troubles quickly would go by, We'd make a world of our own, ===Just you and I. We are nearing, we are nearing, =To a parting in the way, Will you take the path, that leads apart, =Or will you with me stay? Will you take the path that brings me bliss? =Or with many a weary sigh, Must I face a lonely widening gulf, ===Betwixt you and I? *=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=* Five happy, happy years have passed, =Since I penned this little rhyme, We reached the parting in the way, =Now your path is one with mine. Five years of perfect happiness, =Without regret or sigh, Five years of mutual sympathy, ===BetwiXt you and I. CONCLUSION. WITH pleasure my book has been written, =With pleasure I hope 'twill be read, For the fire that inspired the rhyming, =Is but smouldering now-not dead. Good-bye, please scan the faults lightly, =If for good ye have read it in vain, Then forgive, if you can, the poor rhymer =For penning from ignorant brain.