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LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD,
OME back, come back together,
All fancies of the past,
Ye days of April weather,
By the haunted hours before!
Thou art summoned by a spell
From beside the charmed well,
of fairy lore ! The fields were covered over
With colours as she went; Daisy, buttercup, and clover Below her footsteps bent;
mer shed its shining store ; She was happy as she press'd them
Beneath her little feet;
They were so very sweet,
They had never seemed so sweet before, To Red Riding Hood, the darling,
The flower of fairy lore.
Upon a sunny day!
A world where Phantasie is king,
When once grown up and tallNow is the time for schemingThen we shall do them all!
Do such pleasant fancies spring For Red Riding Hood, the darling, The flower of fairy lore ?
She seems like an ideal love,
The poetry of childhood shown,
A younger sister for the heart;
Her hair is brown and bright; And her smile is pleasant,
With its rosy light,
Never can the memory part
The flower of fairy lore.
In a morning hour, Catch the fairy seeming Of this fairy flower ?
Winning it with eager eyes
Lingering with a long delight
Giving us a sweet surprise
The flower of fairy lore !
Where the cowslip bends,
Did the little maiden stay.
We, too, loiter 'mid life's flowers,
All love lingering on their way,
E. L. Landon.
THE SMILE OF SORROW.
S a beam o'er the face of the waters may glow,
below, So the cheek may be tinged with a warm sunny
smile, Though the cold heart to ruin runs darkly the while. One fatal remembrance, one sorrow that throws Its bleak shade alike o'er our joys and our woes, To which life nothing darker or brighter can bring, For which joy has no balm and affliction no sting! Oh! this thought in the midst of enjoyment will stay Like a dead leafless branch in the summer's bright
ray ; The beams of the warm sun play round it in vain, It may smile in his light, but it blooms not again.
APPLE BLOSSOMS IN MAY.
HROUGH the green wood-paths, with bird
songs about her,
May has come softly, the beautiful child ! Skies that were sullen and joyless without her,
Broke into sunshine above her, and smiled. Green on the uplands the wheat-fields are springing,
Cowslips are shining, and daisies are white; Through the still meadows the waters are singing,
Brimming with melody, flashing with light. Blooming with clover the orchards are growing,
Flecked by the shadows that tremble and glide; Round their grey trunks, when the west wind is
Strong as the arms of a giant, yet tender,
See what a treasure they lift to the sky ! Take
your red roses, aflame with their splendour, We love the apple-trees, robin and I. Hark! how the joyous bird, flashing and glowing,
Trills his clear whistle, so mellow and wild, Where, o’er the tops, with a lavish bestowing,
Drift upon drift, the sweet blossoms are piled. Where is the lip that has worthily sung them ?
Tinted like sea-shells, or whiter than snow. Bees, all the day, as they linger among them,
Drowsy with nectar, are murmuring low. Pillowed beneath them, I dream, as I listen,
How the long summer above them shall shine, Till on the boughs the ripe fruitage shall glisten,
Tawny and golden, or redder than wine. In the bright days of the mellow September,
How we shall shout as we gather them in, Hoarding their wealth for the chilly December,
Heaping them high in the cellar and bin. Then, when the snow in the moonlight is gleaming,
Out from the darkness the apples we'll bring, Praising their sweets, where the firelight's beaming;
Globes of rich nectar, a poet might sing. Tales of the glowing south lips may be telling ;
Yet, when the legends are done, we shall say, “ Here's to the land where the summer is dwelling;
Here's to the apple-tree, nionarch of May!”
AULD ROBIN GRAY.
HEN the srcep are in the fauld, and the kye's
And a' the warld to rest are gane; The waes o' my heart fa' in showers frae my e'e, Unkent by my gudeman who sleeps sound by me. Young Jamie lo'ed me weel, and he sought me for
his bride; But saving a crown-piece, he had naething beside ; To mak the crown a pound, my Jamie gaed to sea; And the crown and the pound they were baith for me. He hadna been gone a twelvemonth and a day, When my father brake his arm and the cow was stown
away; My mither she fell sick---my Jamie at the seaAnd auld Robin Gray came a-courting me. My father couldna work, and my mither couldna
spin; I toiled day and night, but their bread I couldna win; Auld Rob maintain'd them baith, and, wi' tears in
his e'e, Said, “ Jennie, oh, for their sakes, will ye no marry
My heart it said na, and I look'd for Jamie back;
break; They gied him my hand-my heart was in the seaAnd so Robin Gray he was gudeman to me.