English

Dam up the water
to make lodging for moonlight,
summer is no more.

The Browns that lived at Burncoombe Hall
Invited Linda down to spend
An evening with some friends, that all
Met there to see the old year's end;
And for his worthy father's sake, —
For they had known him from his birth, —
They ask'd young Erwin down to take
His share of that gay evening's mirth.
And Erwin, in his shape and height,
Stood up the smartest young man there;
And Linda walk'd in shining white

The Great Horse

The hidden sun throughout a stormy day
Had roll'd unseen around its high-bow'd way,
And rain was wildly dashing, in the squall,
Against the dripping moss of tree and wall;
While gurgling brooks rolled foaming down their beds,
And winds were hissing through the timber's heads,
And waters, in a sea-wide sheet, o'erflow'd,
With sluggish eddies, stream-side mead and road,
Where Linda, riding home at eventide,
Was sitting by her stripling driver's side
Behind her steed, now loth to draw his load

Erwin Saves Linda From Fire

One sunny day, when freaky winds swam o'er
The timber-shaded lawn before her door;
While flutt'ring on its slack-bow'd cords, uphung
From tree to tree, the snow-white linen swung,
She stood in hall with slightly bending back,
And cheeks behung with sidelocks raven-black,
And smooth'd, below the iron's slow-drawn weight,
With lily hands, some garment's snow-white plait;
When, springing from the fire with sudden glow,
A tiny firebolt track'd its shining bow,

LUCY LEE

The Writing

O, I am lost, my soul must pine
For one too lofty to be mine:
There comes no day when she will stand
To take my ring on her fair hand,
No hour can bring her to beguile
My hopeless love with one soft smile,
But I must wear my heart away
With restless thought from day to day.
O Lucy Lee, dear Lucy Lee,
Why have I set my heart on thee!

For air-rock'd trees within a wall
Begirt the park around her hall,

A Tale of Tales

There bright-lipp'd smiles, and rings of glossy hair
Were shining softly in the flick'ring glare
The ruddy-burning fire was flinging o'er
The lofty-sided hall, and stonen floor.
For while Orion, glitt'ring with his bright
Three-spangled girdle, climb'd his southern height;
And laurel leaves were gleaming in the sheen
Of downcast moonlight on the grassy green;
And chilly winds, that now no longer found
The summer's leafy boughs and dewy ground,
With shrilly-whistling eddies idly play'd

ELDERS

We thank Thee Lord this happy day
For this Thy children's food and play.
We give Thee thanks for all the names
Now gather'd here in childhood's games.

GIRLS

We girls give thanks for all our joy.

BOYS

And we are thankful, every boy.

ELDERS

We thank all those who kindly stored
With these good things the children's board.
We thank the friends who give us here
Unstinted gifts of goodly cheer.

GIRLS

We girls give thanks for drink and meat.

The oneness of wedlock, by Christ,
Has from earthly been blest to divine,
As the water that once, by His word,
Was, at Cana, all turn'd into wine.

And the welding of two holy lives
Into one, in the name of the Son,
Still betokens the blending in Him
Of the Godhead and manhood in one.

Let the wife ever honor the man,
And the man ever love his own wife;
As the Savior so loved his church
That He for her upgave His own life.

Let the husband and wife, as one flesh,

Devoid is he of real tenderness,
Who, though the blessings of this world denied, —
Would wish the maid he loves to be his bride,
To pine with him in mis'ry and distress;
For she can never break the sacred tie
By which her fortune is with his entwined,
Nor leave the scene of misery, to fly
To the loved home she first for him resigned.

Unhappy is the fond ingenuous heart,
That, in adversity, admires the fair,

The heavens are again serene,
The summer sun on high is glowing,
Again the woods and vales are green,
And flowers bloom, and streams are flowing;
But whither is young Lawo going,
That thus, beneath the noontide heat,
We see him up the river rowing
His little bark so fleet.

Onward he looks, the waters roll,
Still winding through the gloomy waste,
And many a cataract and shoal