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, And now shake hands across the brink 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, Beat upon his father's shield, "O hush, my joy, my sorrow." Birdie, rest a little longer, Till the little wings are stronger. What does little baby say, Cambridge: Electrotyped and Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Co. |