The Sabbath-morn was beautiful-and the long Sabbath-day

The evening-star rose beautiful when daylight died

away.

Morn, day, and twilight, this lone glen flow'd over with delight,

But the fulness of all mortal joy hath bless'd the Sabbath-night.

Hans and Michael
Whet the sickle,

Piping merrily.

Now they mow; each maiden
Soon with sheaves is laden,
Busy as a bee!

Now the blisses,

Now the kisses

Now the wit doth flow,
Till the beer is out;

Then with song and shout,

Hence they go, yo ho!

The First White Tress.

A SILVER tress is 'mid thy hair,

I never saw before,

The first that time hath woven there
To warn thee youth is o'er.

But think not I can love thee less,
Because thy youth departs;

Ah! no, that little silver tress
More closely binds our hearts.

It is decreed that youth must pass,
Why should it be deplored?
For in our child (as in a glass)
I see thy charms restored.

HOLTY.

Thy gentle smile plays o'er her face,

And nut-brown is her hair:

Like thine, sweet love, ere I could trace
One tress of silver there.

MARK LEMON.

Christmas comes but once a year.

THOSE Christmas bells as sweetly chime,
As on the day when first they rung
So merrily in the olden time,

And far and wide their music flung,
Shaking the tall, grey, ivied tower
With all their deep melodious power;
They still proclaim to every ear,
Old Christmas comes but once a year.

And he came singing through the woods, And pluck'd the holly bright and green; Pull'd here and there the ivy buds;

Was sometimes hidden, sometimes seenHalf buried 'neath the mistletoe,

His long beard hung with flakes of snow;
And still he ever caroll'd clear,

Old Christmas comes but once a year.

The hall was then with holly crown'd,
'Twas on the wild-deer's antlers placed;
It hemm'd the batter'd armour round,
And every ancient trophy graced.

It deck'd the boar's head, tusk'd and grim,
The wassail bowl wreath'd to the brim:
A summer green hung every where,
For Christmas came but once a year.

His jaded steed the armed knight
Rein'd up before the abbey gate;
By all assisted to alight,

From humble monk to abbot great.
They placed his lance behind the door,
His armour on the rush-strewn floor;
And then brought out the best of cheer,
For Christmas came but once a year.

The maiden then, in quaint attire,

Loosed from her head the silken hood, And danced before the yule-clog fireThe crackling monarch of the wood. Helmet and shield flash'd back the blaze, In lines of light, like summer rays, While music sounded loud and clear; For Christmas came but once a year.

What though upon his hoary head

Have fallen many a winter's snow? His wreath is still as green and red

As 'twas a thousand years ago. For what has he to do with care? His wassail-bowl and old arm-chair Are ever standing ready there,

For Christmas comes but once a year.

No marvel Christmas lives so long,
He never knew but merry hours,

His nights were spent with mirth and song,
In happy homes and princely bowers;
Was greeted both by serf and lord,
And seated at the festal board ;

While every voice cried" Welcome here,
Old Christmas comes but once a year."

For those old times are dead and gone,
And those who hail'd them pass'd away,
Yet still there lingers many a one
To welcome in old Christmas Day.
The poor will many a care forget,
The debtor think not of his debt;
But as they each enjoy their cheer,
Wish it was Christmas all the year.

And still around these good old times
We hang like friends full loth to part;
We listen to the simple rhymes

Which somehow sink into the heart,
"Half musical, half melancholy,"
Like childish tears that still are holy,
A masquer's face dimm'd with a tear,
For Christmas comes but once a year.

At early day the youthful voice,

Heard singing on from door to door,
Makes the responding heart rejoice,
To know the children of the poor