MY LIFE IS FULL OF WEARY DAYS.

Y life is full of weary days,

M But good things have not kept aloof,

Nor wandered into other ways:

I have not lack'd thy mild reproof,
Nor golden largess of thy praise.

And now shake hands across the brink
Of that deep grave to which I go :
Shake hands once more: I cannot sink

So far

far down, but I shall know

Thy voice, and answer from below.

HOME THEY BROUGHT HIM SLAIN WITH

H

SPEARS.

OME they brought him slain with spears,

They brought him home at even-fall:

All alone she sits and hears

Echoes in his empty hall,

Sounding on the morrow.

The Sun peep'd in from open field,
The boy began to leap and prance,
Rode upon his father's lance,

Beat upon his father's shield,

"O hush, my joy, my sorrow."

Birdie, rest a little longer,

Till the little wings are stronger.
So she rests a little longer,
Then she flies away.

What does little baby say,
In her bed at peep of day?
Baby says, like little birdie,
Let me rise and fly away.
Baby sleep a little longer,
Till the little limbs are stronger.
If she sleeps a little longer
Baby too shall fly away.

Cambridge: Electrotyped and Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Co.