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I have two sons,

Two, and yet the same;
One his wild way runs, Wife,

Bringing us to shame.
The one is bearded, sunburnt, grim, and fights across the sea,
The other is a little son who sits upon your knee.

One is fierce and cold, Wife,

As the wayward Deep;
Him no arms could hold, Wife,

Him no breast could keep.
He has tried our hearts for many a year, not broken them, for he
Is still the sinless little one that sits upon your knee.


One may fall in fight, Wife

Is he not our son ?
Pray with all your might, Wife, ,

For the wayward one;
Pray for the dark, rough soldier, who fights across the sea,
Because you love the little son who smiles upon your knee.


One across the foam, Wife,

As I speak may fall;
But this one at home, Wife,

Cannot die at all.
They both are only one; and how thankful should we be,
We cannot lose the darling Son who sits upon your knee!



Last night I woke and found between us drawn,

Between us, where no mortal fear may creep,

The vision of Death dividing us in sleep;
And suddenly I thought, Ere light shall dawn
Some day, – the substance, not the shadow, of Death

Shall cleave us like a sword. The vision passed,
But all its new-born horror held me fast.

And till day broke I listened for your breath.
Some day to wake, and find that coloured skies,

And pipings in the woods, and petals wet,

Are things for aching memory to forget;
And that your living hands and mouth and eyes
Are part of all the world's old histories !
Dear God! a little longer; ah not yet!

E. W. Gosse.


The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea

In a beautiful pea-green boat,
They took some honey and plenty of money,

Wrapped up in a five pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,

And sang to a small guitar,
"O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,

What a beautiful Pussy you are,

You are,

You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!"

Pussy said to the Owl, “You elegant fowl,

How charmingly sweet you sing!
Oh! let us be married! too long we have tarried :

But what shall we do for a ring ?”
HOEKZEMA, Poetry. 4th Ed.


They sailed away for a year and a day,

To the land where the bong-tree grows, And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood,

With a ring at the end of his nose,

His nose,
His nose,

With a ring at the end of his nose.

"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling

Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will."
So they took it aways and were married next day

By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dinèd on mince, and slices of quince

Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,

They danced by the light of the moon,

The moon,
The moon,

They danced by the light of the moon.



Sir Hubert mounted his little brown barb,

Her jennette of Spain his bride; “My winsome Isabelle, my wife,”

Quoth he, "let's a wager ride!"

Quoth he "Sweet wife, let us ride a race,

And this shall be the play, Whoever wins first to yon haw-tree,

Shall do even as they may.

“And whether we live in the country,

Or in town as I would still, Whoever wins first to yon haw-tree,

Shall have it as they will."

"Done!" said she with a light high laugh,

I'm pleased with such as this;
Let us sign the 'pact!' She leant across,

As if she meant to kiss.

He thought to catch her limber waist,

And really a kiss repay,
But she gave her jennette the rein at once;

She was off, she was away.

The little brown barb he shied aside,

On galloped she merrilie,
The race was short and she was the first,

First by the red haw-tree.

“Now fie upon you, winsome wife!”

Cried he, "you ride unfair,
For with that feint, that start too soon,

You took me unaware."

"What's fair”, quoth she with her light high laugh,

"I do not care three straws! Oh, I shall rule, yes, I shall rule, But you, love, shall make the laws!"

W. Bell Scott.


When Letty had scarce pass’d her third glad year,
And her young artless words began to flow,
One day we gave the child a colour'd sphere
Of the wide earth, that she might mark and know,
By tint and outline, all its sea and land.
She patted all the world; old empires peep'd
Between her baby fingers; her soft hand
Was welcome at all frontiers. How she leap'd

And laugh'd and prattled in her world-wide bliss ;
And when we turned her sweet unlearned eye
On our own isle, she raised a joyous cry,
“Oh! yes, I see it, Letty's home is there!"
And, while she hid all England with a kiss,
Bright over Europe fell her golden hair.



The scath of sin is on my brow like lead.
The draff of swine is in my lips for bread.
Father, I know thy glory is not dead.
I will arise.

The servants in thy house are clothed and fed
Full and to spare. I perish here for bread.
My sin hath clothed thy presence with such dread,
I may not rise.
Mine, mine the guilt, all trespass deep and red:
Thine, thine the mercy on this fallen head.
Naked I come, yet thou shalt give me bread.
I will arise.



Tread lightly, she is near

Under the snow,
Speak gently, she can hear

The daisies grow.

All her bright golden hair

Tarnished with rust,
She that was young and fair

Fallen to dust.

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