The grand old gardener and his wife

Smile at the claims of long descent. Howe'er it be, it seems to me,

'Tis only noble to be good.

Kind hearts are more than coronets,
And simple faith than Norman blood.

I know you, Clara Vere de Vere,

You pine among your halls and towers: The languid light of your proud eyes

Is wearied of the rolling hours.

In glowing health, with boundless wealth,
But sickening of a vague disease,

You know so ill to deal with time,

You needs must play such pranks as these.

Clara, Clara Vere de Vere,

If Time be heavy on your hands, Are there no beggars at your gate, Nor any poor about your lands? Oh! teach the orphan-boy to read, Or teach the orphan-girl to sew, Pray Heaven for a human heart,

And let the foolish yeoman go.

THE MAY QUEEN.

OU must wake and call me early, call me

early, mother dear;

To-morrow 'ill be the happiest time of all

the glad New-year;

Of all the glad New-year, mother, the maddest

merriest day;

For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be

Queen o' the May.

There's many a black black eye, they say, but none so bright as mine:

There's Margaret and Mary, there's Kate and Caroline :

But none so fair as little Alice in all the land they

say,

So I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never wake,

If you do not call me loud when the day begins to

break:

But I must gather knots of flowers, and buds and

garlands gay,

For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

As I came up the valley whom think ye should I

see,

But Robin leaning on the bridge beneath the hazel-tree?

He thought of that sharp look, mother, I gave him yesterday,—

But I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

He thought I was a ghost, mother, for I was all in

white,

And I ran by him without speaking, like a flash of

light.