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SONGS OF THREE CENTURIES.
Truth hath decreed her joyous resurrec- There are who for thy last, long sleep Shall sleep as sweetly nevermore, Shall weep because thou canst not weep, And grieve that all thy griefs are o'er.
She shall arise, she must.
For can it be that wickedness hath power
Sad thrift of love! the loving breast
And yet that vice
Should be allowed on sacred ground to Gave up the weary head to rest,
A rock of adamant?
FAREWELL! since never more for thee
The sun comes up our eastern skies, Less bright henceforth shall sunshine be To some fond hearts and saddened eyes.
And through gray clouds give laws unto | A little while-and lo! the charm is the realm,
Curse good and great, but worship their own wit,
And roar of fights, and fairs, and junket-
Corn, colts, and curs the while the
A youth, whose life has been all summer, steals
Forth from the noisy guests around the board,
Creeps by her softly; at her footstool
And, when she pauses, murmurs tender
while the Blackbird
Down by the brook he bends his steps, | Two golden stars, like tokens from the and through
Strike on his dim orbs from the setting
A lowly wicket; and at last he stands Awful beside the bed of one who grew From boyhood with him,—who with lifted hands
And eyes seems listening to far welcomings
And sweeter music-than the Blackbird sings.
His sinking hands seem pointing to the west;
He smiles as though he said, "Thy will be done!"
His eyes, they see not those illuminings;
Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase !) 144
A calm and lovely paradise.
A chieftain, to the Highlands bound
A cloud lay cradled near the setting sun..
A face that should content me wondrous
A floating, a floating..
All before us lies the way
All powers of the sea and air.
All the rivers run into the sea.
146 Begone dull care....
A weary lot is thine, fair maid..
Beat on, proud billows; Boreas, blow.
Beneath an Indian palin a girl
Could ye come back to me, Douglas, Doug-
Bonny Kilmeny gaed up the glen
Bright image of the early years
Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny bonny bride.
By the flow of the inland river............ 323
Calm me, my God, and keep me calm...... 247
Come live with me, and be my love..
Come, see the Dolphin's anchor forged; 't is
Come, Sleep, O Sleep, the certain knot of
Comes something down with eventide.. 238
Come with a smile, when come thou must. 313
Cooper, whose name is with his country's
30 How many days with mute adieu..
How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of
How sweet it was to breathe that cooler
How sweet it were, if without feeble fright 144
God makes sech nights, all white an' still.
God of the earth's extended plains!
Had I a heart for falsehood framed
Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings
Have you heard of the wonderful one-hoss
Heap on more wood! - the wind is chill..
He kept his honesty and truth
He meets, by heavenly chance express....
He's gane, he 's gane! he 's frae us torn..
He that of such a height hath built his
Howe'er the wheels of Time go round
How are thy servants blest, O Lord!..
Hie upon Hielands....
High hopes that burned like stars sublime
I am content, I do not care.
I am old and blind!
I climb the hill: from end to end.
I, country-born an' bred, know where to
I do confess thou 'rt smooth and fair..
I do not own an inch of land..
I dwell in grace's courts..
If all the world and love were young.
If aught of oaten stop or pastoral song.......
I feel a newer life in every gale
If he had come in the early dawn..
I fill this cup to one made up of loveliness
If love were what the rose is..
I found a fellow-worker when I deemed I
If stores of dry and learned lore we gain
If with light head erect I sing
I have been out to-day in field and wood.. 256
I have had playmates, I have had compan-
I hear it often in the dark
I knew a Princess: she was old..
I know not how to comfort thee
I know not if or dark or bright
I know not that the men of old..
I know not what shall befall me...
I like a church, I like a cowl....
I never loved ambitiously to climb.
I loved him not; and yet, now he is gone. 137
I love to wander through the woodlands
In this sad hour, so still, so late
In winter, when the rain rained cauld.
I said to Sorrow's awful storm...
I'm sitting on the stile, Mary
I'm wearin' awa', Jean....
In Athens, when all learning centred there 326
I say to thee, do thou repeat..
sought thee round about, O thou my God 26
Is there a whim-inspired fool.
Is this a fast, to keep.
It chanceth once to every soul.
It fell about the Martinmas
It fell about the Martinmas time..
I saw a man, by some accounted wise..
I saw two clouds at morning
I thought of thee, my partner and my guide 103
It is done!....
13 It is not growing like a tree.........