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which appear to be, either in idea or language, beyond the capacity of one who has gone through the classes of a wellinstructed National School: nor has anything been rejected merely because it might be judged, in point of refinement or beauty, to rise above the common level of persons so educated.

If the effect of this publication be but to introduce one purer thought or one higher aspiration into a home weary with toil or dark with care, the object of the compiler will have been answered, and the kindness of those authors and publishers who have consented to this use of their works will have been as well rewarded as it is hereby gratefully acknowledged.

C. M. V.

INDEX OF FIRST LINES.

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A baby was sleeping, its mother was weeping
A fair little girl sat under a tree
A little cottage
A month, sweet Little ones, is past
A nightingale, that all day long
A simple child
A spirit haunts the year's last hours.
A wet sheet and a flowing sea .
Alone I walked the ocean-strand
An axe rang sharply mid those forest shades.
An oyster, cast upon the shore
As slow our ship her foamy track
At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears
At the silence of twilight's contemplative hour
Begone, thou fond

presumptuous Elf
Behold her, single in the field .
Behold the western evening light.
Break, break, break
But are ye sure the news is true?.
But who the melodies of morn can tell
By their floating mill .
Child, amidst the flowers at play.
Christian life's no bank of roses
Come to the land of peace.
Faintly as tolls the evening chime
Faintly flow, thou falling river
Fare thee well! the ship is ready
Farewell to the woodlands, farewell to the bowers
Far in a wild, unknown to public view
Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea.
Full knee-deep lies the winter snow
Good-bye, good-bye to summer
He walked with God, in holy joy
How dear to me the hour when daylight dies
How grand, oh sea, thou lonely sea .
I am a Pebble ! and yield to none

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PAGE

12

50 153 292 149 124 229 264 310 ΙΟΙ

I21

I am monarch of all I survey
I dreamt I lay where flowers were springing
I fell into grief, and began to complain .
I have a son, a little son, a boy just five years old
I hear thee speak of the better land .
I like that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls
I'm sittin' on the stile, Mary
I remember, I remember
I say to thee, do thou repeat
I stood on the bridge at midnight
I stood upon the hills, when heaven's wide arch
I thought to pass away before, and yet alive I am
I travelled among unknown men .
If sorrow came not near us, and the lore
If you're waking call me early, call me early, mother dear.
In dark fens of the Dismal Swamp
It is not the tear at this moment shed
It was the schooner Hesperus .
I've watched you now a short half-hour
Life and thought have gone away
Lo, the lilies of the field .
Mine be a cot beside a hill
Morn on the waters !_and purple and bright
Musing on the roaring ocean
My father was a good and pious man
My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here.
My mind to me a kingdom is
My soul, there is a country
Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note.
Now the growing year is over .
Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray
Oft in the stilly night
O, call

my

brother back to me O it is a weary life. O leave this barren spot to me. O, Mary, go and call the cattle home 0

274 215 314 269 123

67 115 216 280 63 79 133

52 166 50 59 6r 65 245 159 69 147 235 PAGE

say what is that thing called Light
0, tell me, pretty river
Oh, shattered idols, framed of fragile glass
Oh that those lips had language! Life has passed
One morning (raw it was and wet)
On Linden, when the sun was low
On the green banks of Shannon, when Sheelah was nigh
Our bugles sang truce-for the night cloud had lowered .
Pause not to dream of the future before us

92 226

36 248 232

16 213 86 88 82 237

71
215
203
255

308

Peace be around thee, wherever thou rov'st
She dwelt among the untrodden ways .
She was a phantom of delight.
Should sorrow o'er thy brow
Some murmur when their sky is clear
Somewhat back from the village street
Stay near me-do not take thy flight
Sweet Auburn ! loveliest village of the plain
Tell me not, in mournful numbers
The boy stood on the burning deck
The cock is crowing
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary
The days are cold, the nights are long .
The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink
The gloomy night is gathering fast
The lazy mist hangs from the brow of the hill
The noon was shady, and soft airs
The old house by the lindens
The pine-apples in triple row
The poplars are felled, farewell to the shade .
The post-boy drove with fierce career
The rose had been washed, just washed in a shower
The sailor sighs as sinks his native shore
The shades of night were falling fast
The smiling Spring comes in rejoicing
The stately homes of England
There came to the beach a poor exile of Erin
There dwelt a miller hale and bold
There is in souls a sympathy with sounds
There is no flock, however watched and tended.
There is a Reaper, whose name is Death
The twilight is sad and cloudy.
The wintry west extends his blast
They grew in beauty, side by side
Think'st thou the steed that restless roves
This is the place. Stand still, my steed
Those evening bells ! those evening bells
Thou cam’st not to thy place by accident
Thou lingering star, with less'ning ray .
Thou inevitable day
Three fishers went sailing out into the West
Time was when I was free as air
'Tis eight o'clock,-a clear March night
'Tis morning; and the sun, with ruddy orb
'Tis sweet to hear the merry lark.

104
155
26
98
142
223

95
212
195
55
51

3
109
15
ΙΟ
506

II
80
119

58
145

90
151

23
107
100

127

56
135
254
III

70
309

53
312
228

9
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19

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PAGE
Tis the last rose of summer

68
To the sound of evening bells .

307
Twilight's soft dews steal o'er the village-green

75
Under a spreading chestnut-tree
Up to the throne of God is borne.

154
Up with me! up with me into the clouds

165
Voyager on life's troubled sea .

315
We are all here.

249
We sat within the farm-house old

128
We scatter seeds with careless hand

233
We walked along, while bright and red

217
Weep not for broad lands lost .

312
What hidest thou in thy treasure-caves and cells

140
What is that, Mother ? -The lark, my child .

256
What way does the wind come? What way does he go

?

201
“What, you are stepping westward ?" Yea"
When Britain first at Heaven's command
Where art thou, my beloved son .
When the hours of Day are numbered

113
When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye at hame

47
With Farmer Allan at the farm abode

283
With what a glory comes and goes

the
year

125
Ye Mariners of England

84
You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear. 265

220

I

209

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