With both their eyes (they stared with one before). -but let that pass ! wild And questions passed about-how one so trim A change came o'er the nature of my hat. Thoughts that do lie too deep for common minds- A change came o'er the business of this hat. And scudded down dark lanes; one man did place A change, it was the last, came o'er this hat, Of Israel's fated race-and friends once more And plucked no wondering gaze; the hand of scorn Once more grew pointless, jokeless, laughless, growlless And at last, not least of rescued blessings, love! THE OLD MAN IN THE WOOD. ANONYMOUS. THERE was an old man who liv'd in the wood, He thought he could do more work in one day "With all my heart," the old woman said, "If you will allow, You shall stay at home to-day, And I'll go follow the plough. "And you must milk the tiny cow, 66 And you must watch the speckled hen, The old woman took her stick in her hand, The old man put the pail on his head, But Tiny she winc'd, and Tiny she flinch'd, And Tiny gave him a kick on the shin, And a "ho, Tiny !" and a "lo, Tiny!" And then he went to feed the pigs He knocked his nose against the shed, And then he watched the speckled hen, But he quite forgot the spool of yarn, And when the old woman came home at night, That his wife could do more work in a day And then he said how well she plough'd, Said his wife could do more work in a day THE SANDS OF DEE. REV. CHARLES KINGSLEY. Oh, Mary, go and call the cattle home, And call the cattle home, Across the sands of Dee." The western wind was wild and dark with foam, The western tide crept up along the sand, And round and round the sand As far as eye could see. The rolling mist came down and hid the land: "Oh! is it weed, or fish, or floating hair— A drowned maiden's hair, Above the nets at sea?" Was never salmon yet that shone so fair Among the stakes of Dee. They rowed her in across the rolling foam, The cruel crawling foam, The cruel hungry foam, To her grave beside the sea. But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home, Across the sands of Dee. (By permission of Messrs. Macmillan.) 171 THE ALMA. THE RIGHT REV. RICHARD CHENEVIX TRENCH, D.D., THOUGH till now ungraced in story, scant although thy waters be, Alma, roll those waters proudly, proudly roll them to the sea: Yesterday, unnamed, unhonoured, but to wandering Tartar known Now thou art a voice for ever, to the world's four corners blown. In two nations' annals graven, thou art now a deathless name, And a star for ever shining in the firmament of fame. Many a great and ancient river, crowned with city, tower and shrine, Little streamlet, knows no magic, boasts no potency like thine, Cannot shed the light thou sheddest around many a living head, Cannot lend the light thou lendest to the memories of the dead. Yea, nor all unscathed their sorrow, who can, proudly mourning, say When the first strong burst of anguish shall have wept itself away "He has pass'd from us, the loved one; but he sleeps with them that died By the Alma, at the winning of that terrible hill-side." Yes, and in the days far onward, when we all are cold as those Who beneath thy vines and willows on their hero-beds repose, Thou on England's banners blazon'd with the famous fields of old, Shalt, where other fields are winning, wave above the brave and bold; |