1793.

John Anderson My Jo

And still to love, though press'd with ill,
In wintry age to feel no chill,

With me is to be lovely still,
My Mary!

But ah! by constant heed I know

How oft the sadness that I show
Transforms thy smiles to looks of woe,
My Mary!

And should my future lot be cast
With much resemblance of the past,
Thy worn-out heart will break at last,
My Mary!

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48

52

William Cowper.

JOHN ANDERSON MY JO

JOHN ANDERSON my jo, John,
When we were first acquent,
Your locks were like the raven,
Your bonnie brow was brent;
But now your brow is beld, John,
Your locks are like the snaw,
But blessings on your frosty pow,
John Anderson my jo!

John Anderson my jo, John,

We clamb the hill thegither,

And monie a canty day, John,
We've had wi' ane anither;

8

1790.

Now we maun totter down, John,

But hand in hand we'll go,

And sleep thegither at the foot,

John Anderson my jo!

16

Robert Burns.

PIPING DOWN THE VALLEYS

PIPING down the valleys wild,
Piping songs of pleasant glee,
On a cloud I saw a child,

And he laughing said to me:

"Pipe a song about a lamb!"

So I piped with merry cheer. "Piper, pipe that song again";

So I piped: he wept to hear.

"Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe;

66

1789.

Sing thy songs of happy cheer!"
So I sung the same again,

While he wept with joy to hear.

Piper, sit thee down and write
In a book, that all may read."
So he vanished from my sight;

And I plucked a hollow reed,

And I made a rural pen,

And I stained the water clear,
And I wrote my happy songs
Every child may joy to hear.

William Blake.

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12

16

20

SEPHESTIA'S LULLABY

From Menaphon

WEEP not, my wanton, smile upon my knee;
When thou art old there's grief enough for thee!
Mother's wag, pretty boy,
Father's sorrow, father's joy;
When thy father first did see
Such a boy by him and me,
He was glad, I was woe;
Fortune changèd made him so,
When he left his pretty boy,
Last his sorrow, first his joy!

ΙΟ

Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee;
When thou art old there's grief enough for thee!
Streaming tears that never stint,

Like pearl drops from a flint,
Fell by course from his eyes,
That one another's place supplies;
Thus he grieved in every part,

Tears of blood fell from his heart,

When he left his pretty boy,

Father's sorrow, father's joy!

Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee;

When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.

20

The wanton smiled, father wept,
Mother cried, baby leapt;

More he crow'd, more we cried,
Nature could not sorrow hide:
He must go, he must kiss
Child and mother, baby bliss,
For he left his pretty boy,
Father's sorrow, father's joy!

30

Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee; When thou art old there's grief enough for thee!

1589.

Robert Greene.

FOREIGN LANDS

Up into the cherry-tree

Who should climb but little me?
I held the trunk with both my hands
And looked abroad on foreign lands.

I saw the next-door garden lie,
Adorned with flowers before my eye,
And many pleasant places more
That I had never seen before.

I saw the dimpling river pass
And be the sky's blue looking-glass;
The dusty roads go up and down
With people tramping into town.

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8

12

1885.

Sweet and Low

If I could find a higher tree
Farther and farther I should see,
To where the grown-up river slips
Into the sea among the ships,

To where the roads on either hand
Lead onward into fairy land,
Where all the children dine at five,
And all playthings come alive.

Robert Louis Stevenson.

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20

SWEET AND LOW

From The Princess

SWEET and low, sweet and low,
Wind of the western sea,
Low, low, breathe and blow,
Wind of the western sea!

Over the rolling waters go,

Come from the dying moon, and blow,

Blow him again to me;

While my little one, while my pretty one,

sleeps.

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,

Father will come to thee soon;

Rest, rest, on mother's breast,
Father will come to thee soon;

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