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BABY MAY.

27'

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 dead-O 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.

24. CHRISTMAS VERSES.

CHRIST is born, our Saviour King!
Christ is born, a suff'ring brother;
"Glory to God!" the angels sing:
Christ is born of Virgin mother.

Then brightly shine, thou wond'rous 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!

O, may it fill our bosoms then,

And we in life and death be thine!

SHORTER.

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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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THE INCHCAPE ROCK.

26. THE INCHCAPE ROCK.

No stir in the air, no stir in the sea,
The ship was still as she could be;
Her sails from heaven received no motion,
Her keel was steady in the ocean.

Without either sign or sound of their shock
The waves flow'd over the Inchcape Rock;
So little they rose, so little they fell,
They did not move the Inchcape Bell.

The Abbot of Aberbrothok

Had placed that bell on the Inchcape Rock;
On a buoy in the storm it floated and swung,
And over the waves its warning rung.

When the rock was hid by the surge's swell,
The mariners heard the warning bell;
And then they knew the perilous rock,
And blest the Abbot of Aberbrothok.

The Sun in heaven was shining gay,
All things were joyful on that day;
The sea-birds scream'd as they wheel'd round,
And there was joyaunce in their sound.

The buoy of the Inchcape Bell was seen
A darker speck on the ocean green;
Sir Ralph the Rover walk'd his deck,
And he fixed his eye on the darker speck.

He felt the cheering power of spring,
It made him whistle, it made him sing;
His heart was mirthful to excess,-
But the Rover's mirth was wickedness.

THE INCHCAPE ROCK.

His eye was on the Inchcape float:
Quoth he," My men, put out the boat,
And row me to the Inchcape Rock,
And I'll plague the Abbot of Aberbrothok."

The boat is lower'd, the boatmen row,
And to the Inchcape Rock they go;
Sir Ralph bent over from the boat,
And he cut the bell from the Inchcape float.

Down sunk the bell with a gurgling sound,
The bubbles rose and burst around;

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Quoth Sir Ralph, "The next who comes to the Rock Won't bless the Abbot of Aberbrothok.'

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Sir Ralph the Rover sail'd away,
He scour'd the seas for many a day;
And now grown rich with plunder'd store,
He steers his course for Scotland's shore.

So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky
They cannot see the Sun on high;
The wind hath blown a gale all day,
At evening it hath died away.

On the deck the Rover takes his stand,
So dark it is they see no land.
Quoth Sir Ralph, "It will be lighter soon,
For there is the dawn of the rising Moon."

"Canst hear," said one, "the breakers roar? For methinks we should be near the shore." "Now where we are I cannot tell,

But I wish I could hear the Inchcape Bell "

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