Your smile is always in my heart, your name beside my tongue.

the best!

If fifty girls were around you, I'd hardly see the rest;

Be what it may the time of day, the place be where it will,

Sweet looks of Mary Donnelly, they bloom before me still.

count on both your hands,

And for myself there's not a thumb or little finger stands.

Oh, you're the flower of womankind, in country or in town;

The higher I exalt you, the lower I'm cast down.

see your beauty bright,

they give me many a shock;

Where joyful music rises, and where scarlet

curtains fall;

Oh, might we live together in a cottage mean and small,

With sods of grass the only roof, and mud the only wall!

Neil

Somehow, when he asked, she ne'er thought of refusing.

Now Felix Magee puts his pipes to his knee,

And, with flourish so free, sets each couple in motion;

distress

It's far too beauteous to be mine, but I'll never wish it less;

the ground

The maids move around just like swans on the ocean.

doe's

Now cozily retiring, now boldly advanc

ing;

Search the world all around from the sky to the ground,

No such sight can be found as an Irish lass dancing!

Sweet Kate! who could view your bright eyes of deep blue,

Beaming humidly through their dark lashes so mildly

Your fair-turned arm, heaving breast, rounded form

Nor feel his heart warm, and his pulses

throb wildly?

Poor Pat feels his heart, as he gazes, depart,

Subdued by the smart of such painful yet

sweet love;

The sight leaves his eye as he cries with a sigh,

"Dance light, for my heart it lies under your feet, love!"

DENIS FLORENCE M'CARTHY

SONG.

LOVE me if I live!

Love me if I die!

What to me is life or death, So that thou be nigh?

Once I loved thee rich,

Now I love thee poor; Ah! what is there I could not For thy sake endure?

I said to the rose, "The brief night goes
In babble and revel and wine.
O young lord-lover, what sighs are those,
For one that will never be thine!

out warning:

COME into the garden, Maud

For the black bat, night, has flown!

Come into the garden, Maud,

I am here at the gate alone;

"For ever and ever, mine!"

And the soul of the rose went into my blood, As the music clashed in the hall;

And long by the garden lake I stood,

For I heard your rivulet fall

From the lake to the meadow and on to the wood

Our wood, that is dearer than all

From the meadow your walks have left so sweet

That whenever a March-wind sighs,
He sets the jewel-print of your feet
In violets blue as your eyes-
To the woody hollows in which we meet,
And the valleys of Paradise.

The slender acacia would not shake
One long milk-bloom on the tree;
The white lake-blossom fell into the lake,
As the pimpernel dozed on the lea;

And the musk of the roses blown.

For a breeze of morning moves,

And the planet of love is on high, Beginning to faint in the light that she loves, On a bed of daffodil sky,

To faint in the light of the sun that she loves, To faint in its light, and to die.

All night have the roses heard

The flute, violin, bassoon;

All night has the casement jessamine stirred To the dancers dancing in tune

sake,

Knowing your promise to me;
The lilies and roses were all awake-
They sighed for the dawn and thee.

Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls,
Come hither! the dances are done;
In gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls,
Queen lily and rose in one;

Shine out, little head, sunning over with curls,

To the flowers, and be their sun.

There has fallen a splendid tear
From the passion-flower at the gate.
She is coming, my dove, my dear,

She is coming, my life, my fate!

The red rose cries, "She is near, she is near;" And the white rose weeps, "She is late:" The larkspur listens, "I hear, I hear,"

And the lily whispers, "I wait."

She is coming, my own, my sweet!
Were it ever so airy a tread,
My heart would hear her and beat,
Were it earth in an earthly bed;
My dust would hear her and beat,

Had I lain for a century dead— Would start and tremble under her feet, And blossom in purple and red.

ALFRED TENNYSON,

SUMMER DAYS.

In summer, when the days were long,
We walked together in the wood:
Our heart was light, our step was strong;
Sweet flutterings were there in our blood,
In summer, when the days were long.

We strayed from morn till evening came;
We gathered flowers, and wove us crowns;
We walked mid poppies red as flame,
Or sat upon the yellow downs;
And always wished our life the same.

In summer, when the days were long,
We leaped the hedgerow, crossed the brook;
And still her voice flowed forth in song,
Or else she read some graceful book,
In summer, when the days were long.

And then we sat beneath the trees,
With shadows lessening in the noon;
And, in the sunlight and the breeze,
We feasted, many a gorgeons June,
While larks were singing o'er the leas.

In summer, when the days were long,
Or. dainty chicken, snow-white bread,
We feasted, with no grace but song;
We plucked wild strawb'ries, ripe and red,
In summer, when the days were long.

We loved, and yet we knew it not-
For loving seemed like breathing then;
We found a heaven in every spot;
Saw angels, too, in all good men;
And dreamed of God in grove and grot

In summer, when the days are long,
Alone I wander, muse alone;

I see her not; but that old song
Under the fragrant wind is blown,
In summer, when the days are long.
Alone I wander in the wood;
But one fair spirit hears my sighs;
And half I see, so glad and good,
The honest daylight of her eyes,
That charmed me under earlier skies.

In summer, when the days are long,
I love her as we loved of old;

My heart is light, my step is strong;
For love brings back those hours of gold,
In summer, when the days are long.

RUTH.

269

ANONYMOUS

SHE stood breast high amid the corn,
Clasped by the golden light of morn,
Like the sweetheart of the sun,
Who many a glowing kiss had won.

On her cheek an autumn flush
Deeply ripened;-such a blush
In the midst of brown was born,
Like red poppies grown with corn.

Round her eyes her tresses fell—
Which were blackest none could tell:
But long lashes veiled a light
That had else been all too bright.

And her hat, with shady brim,
Made her tressy forehead dim ;-
Thus she stood amid the stooks,
Praising God with sweetest looks.

Sure, I said, Heaven did not mean
Where I reap thou shouldst but glear;
Lay thy sheaf adown and come,
Share my harvest and my home.

THOMAS HOOD