God pity them both + pity

Who

ههه من

Was waing on drews flife recall! fall of all sand words of torque refpen Bu saddest are there: "I might hon hon? Ah well! for us all some sweet hule his Deeply bind farm human eyes, And in the herafle angels may Roll the store from its grown away! Johnbedhillin

MAUD MULLER.

And she heard the little spring-brook fall Over the roadside, through the wall,

In the shade of the apple-trees again
She saw a rider draw his rein,

And, gazing down with a timid grace,
She felt his pleased eyes read her face.

Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls
Stretched away into stately halls;

The weary wheel to a spinnet turned,
The tallow candle an astral burned;

And for him who sat by the chimney lug, Dozing and grumbling o'er pipe and mug,

A manly form at her side she saw,
And joy was duty, and love was law.

Then she took up her burden of life again, Saying only, "It might have been."

Alas for maiden, alas for Judge,
For rich repiner and household drudge!

God pity them both! and pity us all,
Who vainly the dreams of youth recall;

O, WEEL BEFA' THE MAIDEN GAY.

For of all sad words of tongue or pen,

The saddest are these: "It might have been!"

Ah, well! for us all some sweet hope lies
Deeply buried from human eyes;

And, in the hereafter, angels may

Roll the stone from its grave away!

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.

O, WEEL BEFA' THE MAIDEN GAY.

O, WEEL befa' the maiden gay,
In cottage, bught, or penn!
An' weel befa' the bonny May
That wons in yonder glen!

Wha lo'es the modest truth sae weel,
Wha's aye sae kind, an' aye sae leal,
An'

pure as blooming asphodel
Amang sae mony men!

O, weel befa' the bonny thing
That wons in yonder glen!

'Tis sweet to hear the music float

Alang the gloaming lea;

'Tis sweet to hear the blackbird's note

Come pealing frae the tree;

O, WEEL BEFA' THE MAIDEN GAY.

To see the lambkin's lightsome race,
The dappled kid in wanton chase,
The young deer cower in lonely place,
Deep in his flowery den;
But sweeter far the bonny face
That smiles in yonder glen!

O, had it no' been for the blush
O' maiden's virgin flame,

Dear Beauty never had been known,
An' never had a name;

But aye sin' that dear thing o' blame
Was modelled by an angel's frame,
The power o' beauty reigns supreme
O'er a' the sons o' men;
But deadliest far the sacred flame
Burns in a lonely glen!

There's beauty in the violet's vest,
There's hinny in the haw;
There's dew within the rose's breast,

The sweetest o' them a';

The sun will rise and set again,

An' lace wi' burning gowd the main,
The rainbow bend out-ower the plain,
Sae lovely to the ken;

But lovelier far the bonny thing
That wons in yonder glen!

JAMES HOGG.

THE LAND O' THE LEAL.

I'm wearin' awa', Jean,

Like snaw in a thaw, Jean ;

I'm wearin' awa'

To the Land o' the Leal. There's nae sorrow there, Jean; There's neither cauld nor care, Jean; The day is ever fair

In the Land o' the Leal.

You've been leal and true, Jean;

Your task's ended now, Jean;
And I'll welcome you

To the Land o' the Leal.

Then dry that tearfu' ee, Jean!
My soul langs to be free, Jean;
And angels wait on me

To the Land o' the Leal.

Our bonnie bairn's there, Jean,

She was baith gude and fair, Jean;

And we grudged her sair

To the Land o' the Leal!

But sorrow's sel' wears past, Jean,

And joy's a-comin' fast, Jean:

The joy that's aye to last,

In the Land o' the Leal.