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Strong as the arms of a giant, yet tender,
See what a treasure they lift to the sky!
We love the apple-trees, robin and I.
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, monarch of May!”
AULD ROBIN GRAY.
HEN the si:eep 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.
I hadna been his wife a week but only four,
gang like a ghaist, and carena much to spin ;
Lady Anne Barnard.
OH! WHERE DO FAIRIES HIDE THEIR
H! where do fairies hide their heads,
When snow lies on the hills-
And crystallized their rills ?
In circles o'er the plain;
Till green leaves come again.
They plunge beneath the waves, Inhabiting the wreathed shells
That lie in coral caves.
Carousals they maintain ;
Till green leaves come again.
When they return there will be mirth,
And music in the air,
And mischief everywhere.
Will bar the doors in vain ;
T. Haynes Bayly
H, those little, those little blue shoes !
Oh, the price were high
That those shoes would buy, Those little blue unused shoes!
For they hold the small shape of feet
That, by God's good-will,
Years since, grew still,
And oh, since that baby slept,
With a tearful pleasure,
That dear little treasure,
And blue eyes she sees
Look up from her knees