'Work! work! work! While the cock is crowing aloof! And work-work-work, Till the stars shine through the roof! Along with the barbarous Turk, Where woman has never a soul to save, - 'Work-work—work Till the brain begins to swim ; Till the eyes are heavy and dim! 'Oh, Men, with Sisters dear! Oh, Men, with Mothers and Wives! In poverty, hunger, and dirt, 'But why do I talk of Death? Oh God! that bread should be so dear, 'Work-work-work! My labour never flags; And what are its wages? A bed of straw, A crust of bread—and rags. с That shattered roof—and this naked floor- And a wall so blank, my shadow I thank 'Work-work-work! From weary chime to chime, Work-work-work As prisoners work for crime! Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumbed, 'Work-work-work, In the dull December light, And work-work—work, When the weather is warm and bright— While underneath the eaves The brooding swallows cling 'Oh! but to breathe the breath To feel as I used to feel, Before I knew the woes of want 'Oh! but for one short hour! A respite however brief! No blessed leisure for Love or Hope, A little weeping would ease my heart, My tears must stop, for every drop Hinders needle and thread!' With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, In poverty, hunger, and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, T. Hood. XI. LESSONS FROM THE GORSE. I. OUNTAIN gorses, ever-golden, Howsoever pricked and holden Up the hill-side of this life, as bleak as where ye grow? II. Mountain blossoms, shining blossoms, Do ye teach us to be glad When no summer can be had, Blooming in our inward bosoms? Ye, whom God preserveth still, Tokens to the wintry earth that Beauty liveth still! From that academic chair Canopied with azure air, That the wisest word man reaches Is the humblest he can speak? Ye, who live on mountain peak, Yet live low along the ground, beside the grasses meek! IV. Mountain gorses, since Linnæus Whence arisen,-if one or two Drops be on our cheeks-O world, they are not tears, but dew. E. B. Browning. XII. THE MAID OF NEIDPATH. LOVERS' eyes are sharp to see, And lovers' ears in hearing; All sunk and dim her eyes so bright, By fits a sultry hectic hue Across her cheek was flying; By fits so ashy pale she grew Her maidens thought her dying. Yet keenest powers to see and hear Ere scarce a distant form was kenned As on the wing to meet him. He came—he passed—a heedless gaze Could scarcely catch the feeble moan W. Scott. XIII. THE SKYLARK. IRD of the wilderness, Blythsome and cumberless, Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea! Blest is thy dwelling-place O to abide in the desert with thee ! Far in the downy cloud, Love gives it energy, love gave it birth. Where art thou journeying? Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth. O'er moor and mountain green, O'er the red streamer that heralds the day, Over the rainbow's rim, Musical cherub, soar, singing, away! Then, when the gloaming comes, Low in the heather blooms Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be! Emblem of happiness, Blest is thy dwelling-place- O to abide in the desert with thee! 7. Hogg. |