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I wish all maids be warned by mee,
Nevir to trust man's curtesy ;
For if we doe but chance to bow,
They 'll use us than they care not how.

Balow, my babe, ly stil and sleipe !
It grieves me sair to see thee weipe.

ANONYMOUS.

O, dinna mind my words, Willie,

I downa seek to blame ;
But 0, it's hard to live, Willie,

And dree a warld's shame!
Het tears are hailin' ower your cheek,

And hailin' ower your chin : Why weep ye sae for worthlessness,

For sorrow, and for sin ?

MY HEID IS LIKE TO REND, WILLIE.

I'm weary o' this warld, Willie,

And sick wi' a' I see,
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

Ye said was red langsyne.

A stoun' gaes through my heid, Willie,

A sair stoun' through my heart; 0, 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!

My heid is like to rend, Willie,

My heart is like to break ; I'm wearin' aff my feet, Willie,

I'm dyin' for your sake ! 0, lay your cheek to mine, Willie,

Your hand on my briest-bane, 0, say ye'll think on me, Willie,

When I am deid and gane ! It's vain to comfort me, Willie,

Sair grief maun ha'e its will;
But let me rest upon your briest

To sab and greet my fill.
Let me sit on your knee, Willie,

Let me shed by your hair,
And look into the face, Willie,

I never sall see mair!
I'm sittin' on your knee, Willie,

For the last time in my life,
A puir heart-broken thing, Willie,

A mither, yet nae wife.
Ay, press your hand upon my heart,

And press it mair and mair,
Or it will burst the silken twine,

Sae strang is its despair.
O, wae's me for the hour, Willie,

When we thegither met,
O, wae's me for the time, Willie,

That our first tryst was set !
O, wae's me for the loanin' green

Where we were wont to gae,
And wae's me for the destinie

That gart me luve thee sae !

The lav'rock in the lift, Willie,

That lilts far ower our heid, Will sing the morn as merrilie

Abune the clay.cauld deid; And this green turf we 're sittin' on,

Wi’ dew-draps shimmerin' sheen, Will hap the heart that luvit thee

As warld has seldom seen.

But 0, remember me, Willie,

On land where'er ye be ;
And 0, think on the leal, leal heart,

That ne'er luvit ane but thee !
And O, think on the cauld, cauld mools

That file my yellow hair,
That kiss the cheek, and kiss the chin
Ye never sall kiss mair!

WILLIAM MOTHERWELL

BEREAVEMENT AND DEATH.

RESIGNATION.

But a fair maiden, in her Father's mansion,
Clothed with celestial grace;

THERE is no flock, however watched and tended, And beautiful with all the soul's expansion
But one dead lamb is there!
Shall we behold her face.

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Two hands to work addrest

Aye for his praise ;
Two feet that never rest

Walking his ways;
Two eyes that look above
Through all their tears ;

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With thy rude ploughshare, Death, turn up the sod,

And spread the furrow for the seed we sow; This is the field and Acre of our God, This is the place where human harvests grow!

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.

FOR CHARLIE'S SAKE.

THE night is late, the house is still;
The angels of the hour fulfil
Their tender ministries, and move
From couch to couch in cares of love.
They drop into thy dreams, sweet wife,
The happiest smile of Charlie's life,
And lay on baby's lips a kiss,
Fresh from his angel-brother's bliss;
And, as they pass, they seem to make
A strange, dim hymn, "For Charlie's sake."

My listening heart takes up the strain,
And gives it to the night again,
Fitted with words of lowly praise,

And patience learned of mournful days, And memories of the dead child's ways.

His will be done, His will be done!
Who gave and took away my son,
In "the far land" to shine and sing
Before the Beautiful, the King,
Who every day doth Christmas make,
All starred and belled for Charlie's sake.

For Charlie's sake I will arise;
I will anoint me where he lies,
And change my raiment, and go in
To the Lord's house, and leave my sin
Without, and seat me at his board,
Eat, and be glad, and praise the Lord.
For wherefore should I fast and weep,
And sullen moods of mourning keep?
I cannot bring him back, nor he,
For any calling, come to me.
The bond the angel Death did sign,
God sealed for Charlie's sake, and mine.
JOHN WILLIAMSON PALMER.

UNDER THE CROSS.

I CANNOT, cannot say, Out of my bruised and breaking heart, Storm-driven along a thorn-set way, While blood-drops start From every pore, as I drag on,

"Thy will, O God, be done!"

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