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THE MAY QUEEN.

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. 20. THE MAY QUEEN.

You 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. Little Effie shall go with me to-morrow to the green, And you'll be there, too, mother, to see me made the Queen ; For the shepherd lads on every side ’ill come from far away, And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen

o the May. The honeysuckle round the porch has wov'n its wavy bowers, And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo

flowers, And the wild marsh-marigold shines like fire in swamps and

hollows gray, And I'm to be Queen o’ the May, mother, l'ın to be Queen

o the May. The night-winds comeand go, mother, upon the meadow-grass, And the happy stars above them seem to brighten as they pase; There will not be a drop of rain the whole of the live-long day, And I'ın to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o'

the May.

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THE DIVINE IMAGE.

All the valley, diother, 'ill be fresh and green and still,
And the cowslip and the crowfoot are over all the hill,
And the rivulet in the flowery dale 'ill merrily glance and play,
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o'

the May. So you must wake and call me early, call me early, mother

dear; To-morrow 'ill be the happiest time of all the glad New-year ; To-morrow 'ill be of all the year the maddest merriest day, For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o the May.

TENNYSON.

21. THE DIVINE IMAGE.
To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,

All pray in their distress;
And, to these virtues of delight,

Return their thankfulness.
For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,

Is God, our Father dear;
And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,

Is man, His child and care.
For Mercy has a human heart,

Pity a human face,
And Love, the Human Form Divine,

And Peace, the Human dress.
Then every man of every clime,

That prays in his distress,
Prays to the Human Form Divine,
Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace.

BLAKD,

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22. BABY MAY.
CHEEKS as soft as July peaches,
Lips, whose dewy scarlet teaches
Poppies paleness-round large eyes,
Ever great with new surprise,
Minutes filled with shadeless gladness,
Minutes just as brimmed with sadness,
Happy smiles and wailing cries,
Crows and laughs and tearful eyes,
Lights and shadows swifter born
Than on wind-swept Autumn corn,
Ever some new tiny notion
Making every limb all motion-
Catchings up of legs and arms,
Throwings back, and small alarms,
Clutching fingers—straightening jerks,
Twining feet, whose each toe works,
Kickings up, and straining risings,
Mother's ever new surprisings,
Hands all wants and looks all wonder
At all things the heavens under,
Tiny scorns of smiled reprovings
That have more of love than loving,
Mischiefs done with such a winning
Archness, that we prize such sinning,
Breakings-dire of plates and glasses,
Graspings small at all that passes,
Pullings off of all that's able
To be caught from tray or table;
Silences-small meditations,
Deep as thoughts of cares for nations,
Breaking into wisest speeches
In a tongue that nothing teaches,

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EASTER VERSES.

All the thoughts of whose possessing
Must be wooed to light by guessing;
Slumbers—such sweet angel-seemings
That we'd ever have such dreamings,
Till from sleep we see thee breaking,
And we'd always have thee waking;
Wealth for which we know no measure,
Pleasure high above all pleasure,
Gladness brimming over gladness,
Joy in care-delight in sadness,
Loveliness beyond completeness,
Sweetness distancing all sweetness,
Beauty all that beauty may be,
That's May Bennett--that's my baby.

BENNETT.

23. EASTER VERSES.

WRITTEN UNDER BEREAVEMENT.
She is dead0-bitter word !

She is dead-our hearts are riven!
Her loving tones no more are heard

In counsel wise, so kindly given.
We no more on earth shall meet her,

Her whose prayers for us have striven :
But, O! our souls in converse sweeter

Than e'er on earth shall meet in Heaven..
Death's victor now, on spirit-wing, .

She hath 'scaped the body's prison,
And joined the angel-choir, who sing
Before the throne where Christ is risen,

SHORTER.

CHRISTMAS VERSES.

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24. CHRISTMAS VERSES. CARIST is born, our Saviour King!

Christ is born, a suff'ring brother; of Glory to God !" the angels sing:

Christ is born of Virgin mother.

Then brightly shine, thou wondrous star,

Heralding the glorious morn,
And leading sages from afar,

To where he lies so lowly born.

So lowly born, tho' Lord of all ;

By men despised, of mean estate ;
Thine, dear Lord, the cross, the gall,

Earth's bitter scorn, and hell's fierce hate !
All borne by thee for sinful men ;

O, wond'rous grace of love divine !
0, may it fill our bosoms then,
And we in life and death be thine! .

SHORTER.

25. BIRD IN A CAGE. Oh! who would keep a little bird confined, When cowslip bells are nodding in the wind, When every hedge as with “good-morrow" rings, And heard from wood to wood the blackbird sings? Oh, who would keep a little bird confined In his cold wiry prison? Let him fly, And hear him sing, “How sweet is liberty !”

. BOWLES.

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