Don't let Effie come to see me till my grave be growing green:

She'll be a better child to you than ever I have been.

She'll find my garden-tools upon the granary floor:

Let her take them: they are hers: I shall never garden more:

But tell her, when I'm gone, to train the rosebush that I set,

About the parlour window and the box of mignonette.

Good-night, sweet mother; call me before the day is born.

All night I lie awake, but I fall asleep at morn; But I would see the sun rise upon the glad Newyear,

So, if you're waking, call me, call me early, mother dear.

Tennyson.

T

CONCLUSION TO THE

MAY QUEEN AND NEW YEAR'S EVE.

I thought to pass away before, and yet alive I

am;

And in the fields all round I hear the bleating of the lamb.

How sadly, I remember, rose the morning of the year!

To die before the snow-drop came, and now the violet's here,

O sweet is the new violet, that comes beneath the skies,

And sweeter is the young lamb's voice to me that cannot rise,

And sweet is all the land about, and all the flowers that blow,

And sweeter far is death than life to me that long to go.

It seemed so hard at first, mother, to leave the blessed sun,

And now it seems as hard to stay, and yet His will be done!

But still I think it can't be long before I find

release:

And that good man, the clergyman, has told me words of peace.

O, blessings on his kindly voice, and on his silver hair!

And blessings on his whole life long, until he meet me there!

O, blessings on his kindly heart, and on his silver head!

A thousand times I blest him, as he knelt beside my bed.

He taught me all the mercy, for he showed me all the sin.

Now, though my lamp was lighted late, there's One will let me in :

Nor would I now be well, mother, again if that could be,

For my desire is but to pass to Him that died for me.

I did not hear the dog howl, mother, or the death-watch beat,

There came a sweeter token when the night and morning meet:

But sit beside my bed, mother, and put your hand in mine,

And Effie on the other side, and I will tell the sign.

All in the wild March-morning I heard the angels call;

It was when the moon was setting, and the dark was over all;

The trees began to whisper, and the wind began to roll,

And in the wild March-morning I heard them call my soul.

For, lying broad awake, I thought of you and Effie dear;

I saw you sitting in the house, and I no longer

here;

With all my strength I prayed for both, and so I felt resigned,

And up the valley came a swell of music on the wind.

I thought that it was fancy, and I listened in my bed,

And then did something speak to me-I know not what was said;

For great delight and shuddering took hold of all my mind,

And up the valley came again the music on the wind.

But you were sleeping; and I said, "It's not for them, it's mine;"

And if it comes three times, I thought, I take it for a sign.

And once again it came, and close beside the window-bars,

Then seemed to go right up to Heaven and die among the stars.

So now I think my time is near. I trust it is. I know

The blessed music went that way my soul will have to go.

And for myself, indeed, I care not if I go to-day.

But, Effie, you must comfort her when I am past away.

And say to Robin a kind word, and tell him not to fret;

There's many worthier than I, would make him happy yet.