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They rang the sailor lads to guide

From roofe to roofe who fearless rowed; And I my sonne was at my side,

And yet the ruddy beacon glowed: And yet he moaned beneath his breath, 'O come in life, or come in death!

O lost! my love, Elizabeth.'

And didst thou visit him no more?

Thou didst, thou didst, my daughter deare;

The waters laid thee at his doore,

Ere yet the early dawn was clear. Thy pretty bairns in fast embrace, The lifted sun shone on thy face, Downe drifted to thy dwelling-place.

That flow strewed wrecks about the grass,
That ebbe swept out the flocks to sea;

A fatal ebbe and flow, alas!

To manye more than myne and me: But each will mourn his own (she saith). And sweeter woman ne'er drew breath Than my sonne's wife, Elizabeth.

I shall never hear her more
By the reedy Lindis shore,
'Cusha, Cusha, Cusha!' calling,
Ere the early dews be falling;
I shall never hear her song,
'Cusha, Cusha!' all along,

Where the sunny Lindis floweth,

Goeth, floweth ;

From the meads where melick groweth,

When the water winding down,

Onward floweth to the town.

I shall never see her more

Where the reeds and rushes quiver,

Shiver, quiver;

Stand beside the sobbing river,
Sobbing, throbbing, in its falling,
To the sandy lonesome shore;
I shall never hear her calling,
'Leave your meadow grasses mellow,
Mellow, mellow;

Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow;

Come uppe Whitefoot, come uppe Lightfoot; Quit your pipes of parsley hollow,

Hollow, hollow;

Come uppe Lightfoot, rise and follow;

Lightfoot, Whitefoot,

From your clovers lift the head;
Come uppe, Jetty, follow, follow,
Jetty, to the milking shed.'

THE LONG WHITE SEAM.

As I came round the harbor buoy,
The lights began to gleam,

No wave the land-locked water stirred;
The crags were white as cream;
And I marked my love by candle-light
Sewing her long white seam.

It's aye sewing ashore, my dear,
Watch and steer at sea,

It's reef and furl, and haul the line,
Set sail and think of thee.

I climbed to reach her cottage door;
O sweetly my love sings!

Like a shaft of light her voice breaks forth,
My soul to meet it springs

As the shining water leaped of old,
When stirred by angel wings.

Aye longing to list anew,

Awake and in my dream,

But never a song she sang like this,
Sewing her long white seam.

Fair fall the lights, the harbor lights,
That brought me in to thee,

And peace drop down on that low roof
For the sight that I did see,

And the voice, my dear, that rang so clear,

All for the love of me.

For O, for O, with brows bent low
By the candle's flickering gleam,
Her wedding gown it was she wrought,
Sewing the long white seam.

FROM 'SONGS OF THE NIGHT-WATCHES.' 18

CONCLUDING SONG OF DAWN.

(Old English Manner.)

A MORN OF MAY.

ALL the clouds about the sun lay up in golden creases, (Merry rings the maiden's voice that sings at dawn of day ;) Lambkins woke and skipped around to dry their dewy fleeces,

So sweetly as she carolled, all on a morn of May.

Quoth the sergeant, 'Here I'll halt; here's wine of joy for drinking;

To my heart she sets her hand, and in the strings doth

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All among the daffodils, and fairer to my thinking,
And fresh as milk and roses, she sits this morn of May.'

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Quoth the sergeant, Work is work, but any ye might make me,

If I worked for you, dear lass, I'd count my holiday.

I'm your slave for good and all, an' if ye will but take me, So sweetly as ye carol upon this morn of May.'

'Medals count for worth,' quoth she, ‘and scars are worn for honor;

But a slave an' if ye be, kind wooer, go your way.'

All the nodding daffodils woke up and laughed upon her. Oh, sweetly did she carol all on that morn of May.

Gladsome leaves upon the bough, they fluttered fast and faster,

Fretting brook, till he would speak, did chide the dull delay:

'Beauty! when I said a slave, I think I meant a master; So sweetly as ye carol all on this morn of May.

Lass, I love you! Love is strong, and some men's hearts are tender.'

Far she sought o'er wood and wold, but found not aught

to say;

Mounting lark nor mantling cloud would any counsel render,

Though sweetly she had carolled upon that morn of May.

Shy, she sought the wooer's face, and deemed the wooing mended;

Proper man he was, good sooth, and one would have his

way:

So the lass was made a wife, and so the song was ended. O! sweetly she did carol all on that morn of May.

DIVIDED.

I.

AN empty sky, a world of heather,
Purple of foxglove, yellow of broom;
We two among them wading together,

Shaking out honey, treading perfume.

Crowds of bees are giddy with clover,

Crowds of grasshoppers skip at our feet, Crowds of larks at their matins hang over, Thanking the Lord for a life so sweet.

Flusheth the rise with her purple favor,

Gloweth the cleft with her golden ring, 'Twixt the two brown butterflies waver, Lightly settle, and sleepily swing.

We two walk till the purple dieth

And short dry grass under foot is brown, But one little streak at a distance lieth Green like a ribbon to prank the down.

II.

Over the grass we stepped unto it,

And God He knoweth how blithe we were! Never a voice to bid us eschew it:

Hey the green ribbon that showed so fair!

Hey the green ribbon! we kneeled beside it,
We parted the grasses dewy and sheen;
Drop over drop there filtered and slided,
A tiny bright beck that trickled between.

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