But he who thither goes along the road
Loses a reaper's mile. The summer long
Wee Willie came and went across the fields.
He loved the smell of flowers and grass, the sight
Of cows and sheep, the changing stalks of wheat,
And he was weak and small. When winter caine,
Still caring not a straw for wind or rain,
Came Willie and the collie; till by night
Down fell the snow, and fell three nights and days,
Then ceased. The ground was white and ankle-
deep;

The window of the school was threaded o'er
With flowers of hueless ice Frost's unseen hands
Prick'd you from head to foot with tingling heat.
The shouting urchins, yonder on the green,
Play'd snowballs. In the school a cheery fire
Was kindled every day, and every day
When Willie came he had the warmest seat,
And every day old Donald, punctual, came
To join us, after labour, in the lowe.

I prophesied a storm before the night.
Then with an icy pain, an eldritch gleam,
I thought of Willie; but I cheer'd my heart,
"He's home, and with his mother, long ere this!"
While thus I stood the hollow murmur grew
Deeper, the wold grew darker, and the snow
Rush'd downward, whirling in a shadowy mist.
I walk'd to yonder door and open'd it.
Whirr! the wind swung it from me with a clang,
And in upon me with an iron-like crash
Swoop'd in the drift. With pinch'd sharp face
I gazed

Out on the storm! Dark, dark was all! A mist,
A blinding, whirling mist, of chilly snow,
The falling and the driven; for the wind
Swept round and round in spindrift on the earth,
And birm'd the deathly drift aloft with moans,
Till all was swooning darkness. Far above
A voice was shrieking, like a human ery.

I closed the door, and turn'd me to the fire,

It lay long miles along the country-side,
White, awful, silent. In the keen cold air
There was a hush, a sleepless silentness,
And 'mid it all, upraising eyes, you felt

Frost's breath upon your face. And in your blood,
Though you were cold to touch, was flaming fire,
Such as within the bowels of the earth

Burnt at the bones of ice, and wreath'd them round

With grass ungrown.

One day in school I saw, Through threaded window-panes, soft snowy flakes Swim with unquiet motion, mistily, slowly, At intervals; but when the boys were gone, And in ran Donald with a dripping nose, The air was clear and gray as glass. An hour Sat Willie, Donald, and myself around The murmuring fire; and then with tender hand I wrapt a comforter round Willie's throat, Button'd his coat around him close and warm, And off he ran with Donald, happy-eyed And merry, leaving fairy prints of feet Behind him on the snow. I watch'd them fade Round the white road, and, turning with a sigh, Came in to sort the room and smoke a pipe Before the fire. Here, dreamingly and aloze, I sat and smoked, and in the fire saw clear The norland mountains, white and cold with

snow,

That crumbled silently, and moved, and changed,-
When suddenly the air grew sick and dark,
And from the distance came a hollow sound,
A murmur like the moan of far-off seas.

I started to my feet, look'd out, and knew The winter wind was whistling from the east To lash the snow-clothed plain, and to myself

Of an impending pain. Down the broad lum
Came melting flakes, that hiss'd upon the coal;
Under my eyelids blew the blinding smoke;
And for a time I sat like one bewitch'd,

Still as a stone. The lonely room grew dark,
The flickering fire threw phantoms of the fog
Along the floor and on the walls around;
The melancholy ticking of the clock
Was like the beating of my heart. But, hush!
Above the moaning of the wind I heard
A sudden scraping at the door. . . my heart
Stood still and listen'd . . . and with that there

rose

An anguish'd howl, shrill as a dying screech,
And scrape-scrape-scrape, the sound beyond the

door!

I could not think—I could not cry nor breathe—
A fierce foreboding gript me like a hand,
As opening the door I gazed straight out,
Sq nothing, till I felt against my knees
Something that moved, and heard a moaning
sound-

Then, panting, moaning, o'er the threshold leapt
Donald, the dog, alone, and white with snow.

Down, Donald! down, old man! Sir, look at him!

I swear he knows the meaning of my words,
And tho' he cannot speak, his heart is full!
See now! see now! he puts his cold black nose
Into my palm and whines! he knows, he knows!
Would speak, and cannot, but he minds that
night!

The terror of my heart seem'd choking me:
Wildly I stared in wonder at the dog,
Who gazed into my face and whined and moan'd,
Leap'd at the door, then touch'd me with his paws,
And lastly, grip my coat between his teeth,

whines

Till fairly madden'd, stupified with fear,

I let him drag me through the banging door
Out to the whirling storm. Barcheaded, wild,
The wind and snow-drift beating on my face,
Blowing me hither, thither, with the dog,
I dash'd along the road.... What follow'd,seem'd
An eerie, eerie dream!-a world of snow,
A sky of wind, a whirling howling mist
Which swam around with countless flashing eyes;
And Donald dragging, dragging, beaten, bruised,
Leading me on to something that I fear'd--
An awful something, and I knew not what!
On, on, and farther on, and still the snow
Whirling, the tempest moaning! Then I mind
Of stooping, groping in the shadowy light,
And Donald by me, burrowing with his nose
And whining. Next a darkness, blank and deep!
But then I mind of tearing through the storm,
Stumbling and tripping, blind and deaf and dumb,
But holding to my heart an icy load

I clutch'd with freezing fingers. Far away-
It seem'd long miles on miles away-I saw
A yellow light-unto that light I tore-
And last, remember opening a door
And falling, dazzled by a blinding gleam
Of human faces and a flaming fire,
And with a crash of voices in my ears
Fading away into a world of snow!

When I awaken'd to myself, I lay In mine own bed at home. I started up As from an evil dream, and look'd around, When to my side came one, a neighbour's wife, Mother to two young lads I taught in school. With hollow, hollow voice I question'd her, And soon knew all: how a long night had pass'd Since, with a lifeless laddie in my arms, I stumbled, horror-stricken, swooning, wild, Into a ploughman's cottage: at my side, My coat between his teeth, a dog; and how Senseless and cold I fell. Thence, when the storm Had pass'd away, they bore me to my home. I listen'd dumbly, catching at the sense; But when the woman mention'd Willie's name, And I was fear'd to phrase the thought that rose, She saw the question in my tearless eyes And told me he was dead.

"Twould weary you To tell the thoughts, the fancies, and the dreams That weigh'd upon me, ere I rose in bed, But little harm'd, and sent the wife away, Rose, slowly drest, took up my staff and went To Willie's mother's cottage. As I walk'd, Though all the air was calm and cold and still, The blowing wind and dazzled snow were yet Around about. I was bewilder'd like! Ere I had time to think, I found myself Beside a truckle-bed, and at my side

And look'd on Willie, who had gone to sleep.

In death-gown white lay Willie fast asleep, His blue eyes closed, his tiny fingers clench'd, His lips apart a wee as if he breathed, His yellow hair kaim'd back, and on his face A smile-yet not a smile--a dim pale light Such as the snow keeps in its own soft wings. Ay, he had gone to sleep, and he was sound! And by the bed lay Donald watching still, And when I look'd he whined, but did not move.

I turn'd in silence, with my nails stuck deep In my clench'd palms; but in my heart of hearts I pray'd to God. In Willie's mother's face There was a cold and silent bitterness—— I saw it plain, but saw it in a dream, And cared not. So I went my way, as grim As one who holds his breath to slay himself. A winter day, a landscape hush'd in snow, What follow'd that is vague as was the rest: A weary wind, a horrid whiteness borne On a man's shoulder, shapes in black, o'er all The solemn clanging of an iron bell, And lastly me and Donald standing both Beside a tiny mound of fresh-heap'd earth, And while around the snow began to fall Mistily, softly, thro' the icy air, Looking at one another, dumb and old.

And Willie's dead!-that's all I comprehend -
Ay, bonnie Willie Baird has gone before!
I begg'd old Donald hard--they gave him me--
And we have lived together in this house
Long years, with no companions. There's no need
Of speech between us. Here we dumbly bide,
But know each other's sorrow,—and we both
Feel weary. When the nights are long and cold,
And snow is falling as it falleth now,
And wintry winds are moaning, here I dream
Of Willie and the unfamiliar life

I left behind me on those norland hills!
"Do doggies gang to heaven?" Willie ask'd;
And ah! what Solomon of modern days
Can answer that? Yet here at nights I sit,
Reading the Book, with Donald at my side;
And stooping, with the Book upon my knee,
i sometimes gaze in Donald's patient eyes----
So sad, so human, though he cannot speak-
And think he knows that Willie is at peace,
Far far away beyond the norland hills,
Beyond the silence of the untrodden snow.

THE DEAD MOTHER.

As I lay asleep, as I lay asleep,
Under the grass as I lay so deep,
As I lay asleep in my white death-serk
Under the shade of Our Lady's Kirk,

I waken'd up in the dead of night,
I waken'd up in my shroud o' white,
And I heard a cry from far away,
And I knew the voice of my daughter May:
"Mother, mother, come hither to me!
Mother, mother, come hither and see!
Mother, mother, mother dear,
Another mother is sitting here:
My body is bruised, in pain I cry,
All night long on the straw I lie,

I thirst and hunger for drink and meat,
And mother, mother to sleep were sweet!"
I heard the cry, though my grave was deep,
And awoke from sleep, and awoke from sleep.

I awoke from sleep, I awoke from sleep,
Up I rose from my grave so deep!
The earth was black, but overhead
The stars were yellow, the moon was red;
And I walk'd along all white and thin,
And lifted the latch and enter'd in.

I reach'd the chamber as dark as night,
And though it was dark my face was white:
Mother, mother, I look on thee!

Mother, mother, you frighten me!

For your cheeks are thin and your hair is gray!"
But I smiled, and kiss'd her fears away;
I smooth'd her hair and I sang a song,
And on my knee I rock'd her long.
"O mother, mother, sing low to me-
I am sleepy now, and I cannot see!"
I kiss'd her, but I could not weep,
And she went to sleep, she went to sleep.

As we lay asleep, as we lay asleep,
My May and I, in our grave so deep,
As we lay asleep in the midnight mirk,
Under the shade of Our Lady's Kirk,
I waken'd up in the dead of night,
Though May my daughter lay warm and white,
And I heard the cry of a little one,

And I knew 'twas the voice of Hugh my son:
"Mother, mother, come hither to me!
Mother, mother, come hither and sce!
Mother, mother, mother dear,
Another mother is sitting here.

My body is bruised and my heart is sad,
But I speak my mind and call them bad;
I thirst and hunger night and day,
And were I strong I would fly away!"

I heard the cry though my grave was deep,
And awoke from sleep, and awoke from sleep!

I awoke from sleep, I awoke from sleep,
Up I rose from my grave so deep,
The earth was black, but overhead
The stars were yellow, the moon was red;
And I walk'd along all white and thin,
And lifted the latch and enter'd in.

"Mother, mother, and art thou here?
I know your face, and I feel no fear;
Raise me, mother, and kiss my cheek,
For oh, I am weary and sore and weak."
I smooth'd his hair with a mother's joy,
And he laugh'd aloud, my own brave boy:
I raised and held him on my breast,
Sang him a song, and bade him rest.
"Mother, mother, sing low to me-
I am sleepy now, and I cannot see!"
I kiss'd him, and I could not weep,
As he went to sleep, as he went to sleep.

As I lay asleep, as I lay asleep,

With my girl and boy in my grave so deep,
As I lay asleep, I awoke in fear,
Awoke, but awoke not my children dear,
And heard a cry so low and weak
From a tiny voice that could not speak;

I heard the cry of a little one,

My bairn that could neither talk nor run,
My little, little one, uncaress'd,
Starving for lack of the milk of the breast;
And I rose from sleep and enter'd in,
And found my little one pinch'd and thin,
And croon'd a song and hush'd its moan,
And put its lips to my white breast-bone;
And the red, red moon that lit the place
Went white to look at the little face,
And I kiss'd, and kiss'd, and I could not weep,
As it went to sleep, as it went to sleep.

As it lay asleep, as it lay asleep,
I set it down in the darkness deep,
Smooth'd its limbs and laid it out,
And drew the curtains round about;
Then into the dark, dark room I hied,
Where awake lay he at the woman's side;
And though the chamber was black as night,
He saw my face, for it was so white;

I gazed in his eyes, and he shrick'd in pain,
And I knew he would never sleep again,
And back to my grave went silently,
And soon my baby was brought to me;
My son and daughter beside me rest,
My little baby is on my breast;
Our bed is warm and our grave is deep,
But he cannot sleep, he cannot sleep!

THE BALLAD OF JUDAS ISCARIOT.1

'Twas the body of Judas Iscariot Lay in the Field of Blood;

Equal in finish to anything written since "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner," and approaches that pom in weird impressiveness and power.-Stedman.