When everything smiles, should a beauty look Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth glum? Och hone! widow machree ! See the birds go in pairs, And the rabbits and hares; Why, even the bears Now in couples agree; And the mute little fish, Though they can't spake, they wish, Och hone! widow machree. III. Widow machree, and when winter comes in, - To be poking the fire all alone is a sin, Och hone! widow machree. Full of family glee; Och hone! widow machree. IV. Of simple beauty and rustic health. Singing, she wrought, and her merry glee But, when she glanced to the far-off town, The sweet song died, and a vague unrest A wish, that she hardly dared to own, The Judge rode slowly down the lane, He drew his bridle in the shade And ask a draught from the spring that flowed She stooped where the cool spring bubbled up. And how do you know, with the comforts I've And blushed as she gave it, looking down towld, On her feet so bare, and her tattered gown. "Thanks!" said the Judge, " a sweeter draught He spoke of the grass and flowers and trees, Then talked of the haying, and wondered whether | And sweet Maud Muller's hazel eyes And Maud forgot her brier-torn gown, "He would dress me up in silks so fine, "My father should wear a broadcloth coat, "I'd dress my mother so grand and gay, The Judge looked back as he climbed the hill, "A form more fair, a face more sweet, Ne'er hath it been my lot to meet. "And her modest answer and graceful air Show her wise and good as she is fair. "Would she were mine, and I to-day, Like her, a harvester of hay. "No doubtful balance of rights and "But low of cattle, and song of birds, But he thought of his sister, proud and cold, So, closing his heart, the Judge rode on, But the lawyers smiled that afternoon, And the young girl mused beside the well, He wedded a wife of richest dower, Yet oft, in his marble hearth's bright glow, Looked out in their innocent surprise. Oft, when the wine in his glass was red, "Free as when I rode that day And oft, when the summer sun shone hot In the shade of the apple-tree again And, gazing down with a timid grace, The weary wheel to a spinnet turned, A manly form at her side she saw, Then she took up her burden of life again, Alas for maiden, alas for judge, For of all sad words of tongue or pen, Ah, well for us all some sweet hope lies And, in the hereafter, angels may JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. QUAKERDOM. THE FORMAL CALL. THROUGH her forced, abnormal quiet Flashed the soul of frolic riot, When the noonday woods are ringing, All the birds of summer singing, Suddenly there falls a silence, and we know a serpent nigh: So upon the door a rattle Stopped our animated tattle, And a most malicious laughter lighted up her And the stately mother found us prim enough to downcast eyes; All in vain I tried each topic, Ranged from polar climes to tropic, Every commonplace I started met with yes-orno replies. suit her eye. CHARLES G. HALPINE THE CHESS-BOARD. My little love, do you remember, Ere we were grown so sadly wise, Those evenings in the bleak December, Curtained warm from the snowy weather, When you and I played chess together, Checkmated by each other's eyes? Ah! still I see your soft white hand Hovering warm o'er Queen and Knight; Brave Pawns in valiant battle stand; The double Castles guard the wings; The Bishop, bent on distant things, Moves, sidling, through the fight. Our fingers touch; our glances meet, And falter; falls your golden hair Against my cheek; your bosom sweet Is heaving. Down the field, your Queen Rides slow, her soldiery all between, And checks me unaware. Ah me! the little battle's done : Disperst is all its chivalry. Full many a move since then have we Mid life's perplexing checkers made, And many a game with fortune played ; What is it we have won ? This, this at least, if this alone: |