O, wae's me for the hour, Willie, That gart me luve thee sae! O, dinna mind my words, Willie, But O, it's hard to live, Willie, And dree a warld's shame! I'm weary o' this warld, Willie, I canna live as I ha'e lived, Or be as I should be. But fauld unto your heart, Willie, The heart that still is thine, And kiss ance mair the white, white cheek A stoun' gaes through my heid, Willie, O, haud me up and let me kiss Thy brow ere we twa pairt. Anither, and anither yet! How fast my life-strings break! Fareweel fareweel! through yon kirk-yard Step lichtly for my sake! The lav'rock in the lift, Willie, Abune the clay-cauld deid; And this green turf we 're sittin' on, But O, remember me, Willie, On land where'er ye be; And O, think on the leal, leal heart, And O, think on the cauld, cauld mools That kiss the cheek, and kiss the chin WILLIAM MOTHERWELL. A WOMAN'S LOVE. A SENTINEL angel, sitting high in glory, Heard this shrill wail ring out from Purgatory: "Have mercy, mighty angel, hear my story! "I loved, and, blind with passionate love, I fell. Love brought me down to death, and death to Hell; For God is just, and death for sin is well. "I do not rage against his high decree, Nor for myself do ask that grace shall be ; But for my love on earth who mourns for me. "Great Spirit! Let me see my love again And comfort him one hour, and I were fain To pay a thousand years of fire and pain." Then said the pitying angel, "Nay, repent But still she wailed, "I pray thee, let me go! The brazen gates ground sullenly ajar, And upward, joyous, like a rising star, She rose and vanished in the ether far. But soon adown the dying sunset sailing, She sobbed, "I found him by the summer sea She wept, "Now let my punishment begin! To expiate my sorrow and my sin." The angel answered, Nay, sad soul, go higher! JOHN HAY, DEATH AND THE YOUTH. "Not yet, the flowers are in my path, The sun is in the sky; Not yet, my heart is full of hope, "Not yet, I never knew till now How precious life could be; My heart is full of love, O Death! I cannot come with thee! But Love and Hope, enchanted twain, LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON. BEREAVEMENT AND DEATH. RESIGNATION. But a fair maiden, in her Father's mansion, THERE is no flock, however watched and tended, And beautiful with all the soul's expansion But one dead lamb is there! There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, But has one vacant chair! The air is full of farewells to the dying, The heart of Rachel, for her children crying, Let us be patient! These severe afflictions But oftentimes celestial benedictions We see but dimly through the mists and vapors; What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers May be heaven's distant lamps. Shall we behold her face. And though, at times, impetuous with emotion The swelling heart heaves moaning like the ocean, We will be patient, and assuage the feeling By silence sanctifying, not concealing, HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. BURIED TO-DAY. BURIED to-day. When the soft green buds are bursting out, There is no Death! What seems so is transition: Of village boys and girls at play This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life elysian, She is not dead, - the child of our affection, Where she no longer needs our poor protection, In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion, Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution, Day after day we think what she is doing Thus do we walk with her, and keep unbroken Thinking that our remembrance, though un spoken, May reach her where she lives. Not as a child shall we again behold her; In our embraces we again enfold her, |