TO HER ABSENT SAILOR.

FROM "THE TENT ON THE BEACH."

HER window opens to the bay, On glistening light or misty gray, And there at dawn and set of day

In prayer she kneels :

But, with her heart, if not her ear,
The old loved voice she seemed to hear:
"I wait to meet thee: be of cheer
For all is well!"

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER

TO LUCASTA.

IF to be absent were to be

Away from thee;

Or that, when I am gone,

You or I were alone;

Then, my Lucasta, might I crave

Pity from blustering wind or swallowing wave.

But I'll not sigh one blast or gale
To swell my sail,

Or pay a tear to 'suage

The foaming blue-god's rage;
For, whether he will let me pass
Or no, I'm still as happy as I was.

Though seas and lands be 'twixt us both,
Our faith and troth,

Like separated souls,

All time and space controls: Above the highest sphere we meet,

Unseen, unknown; and greet as angels greet.

So, then, we do anticipate

Our after-fate,

I AM undone there is no living, none,
If Bertram be away. It were all one,
That I should love a bright particular star,
And think to wed it, he is so above me :
In his bright radiance and collateral light
Must I be comforted, not in his sphere.
The ambition in my love thus plagues itself:
The hind that would be mated by the lion
Must die for love. "Twas pretty, though a plague,
To see him ev'ry hour; to sit and draw
His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,
In our heart's table, — heart too capable
Of every line and trick of his sweet favor:
But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy
Must sanctify his relics.

SHAKESPEARE.

O, SAW YE BONNIE LESLEY?

O, SAW ye bonnie Lesley

As she gaed o'er the border? She's gane, like Alexander,

To spread her conquests farther.

To see her is to love her,

And love but her forever; For nature made her what she is, And ne'er made sic anither!

Thou art a queen, fair Lesley, Thy subjects we, before thee; Thou art divine, fair Lesley,

The hearts o' men adore thee.

The deil he could na scaith thee,

Or aught that wad belang thee; He'd look into thy bonnie face,

And say 'I canna wrang thee!'

The Powers aboon will tent thee, Misfortune sha' na steer thee; Thou 'rt like themselves sae lovely That ill they'll ne'er let near thee.

Return again, fair Lesley,

Return to Caledonie ! That we may brag we hae a lass There's name again sae bonnie.

ROBERT BURNS

JEANIE MORRISON.

I've wandered east, I've wandered west, Through mony a weary way;

But never, never can forget

The luve o' life's young day!
The fire that's blawn on Beltane e'en
May weel be black gin Yule;
But blacker fa' awaits the heart
Where first fond luve grows cule.

O dear, dear Jeanie Morrison,

The thochts o' bygane years

Still fling their shadows ower my path,
And blind my een wi' tears:
They blind my een wi' saut, saut tears,
And sair and sick I pine,
As memory idly summons up

The blithe blinks o' langsyne.

"T was then we luvit ilk ither weel, "T was then we twa did part;

Sweet time - sad time! twa bairns at scule, Twa bairns, and but ae heart!