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CoME to me, O my Mother come to me,
Thine own son slowly dying far away !
Through the moist ways of the wide ocean, blown
By great invisible winds, come stately ships
To this calm bay for quiet anchorage;
They come, they rest awhile, they go away,
But, O my Mother, never comest thou !
The snow is round thy dwelling, the white snow,
That cold soft revelation pure as light,
And the pine-spire is mystically fringed,
Laced with incrusted silver. Here — ah me ! —
The winter is decrepit, underborn,
A leper with no power but his disease.
Why am I from thee, Mother, far from thee
Far from the frost enchantment, and the woods
Jewelled from bough to bough O home, my
home !
O river in the valley of my home,
With mazy-winding motion intricate,
Twisting thy deathless music underneath
The polished ice-work, - must I nevermore
Behold thee with familiar eyes, and watch
Thy beauty changing with the changeful day,
Thy beauty constant to the constant change
DAvid GRAY.

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from “THE Roman.”

Lord, I am weeping. As Thou wilt, O Lord,
Do with him as Thou wilt; but O my God,
Let him come back to die | Let not the fowls
O' the air defile the body of my child,
My own fair child, that when he was a babe,
I lift up in my arms and gave to Thee
Let not his garment, Lord, be vilely parted, |
Nor the fine linen which these hands have spun
Fall to the stranger's lot Shall the wild bird,
That would have pilfered of the ox, this year
Disdain the pens and stalls Shall her Mind

young,
That on the fleck and moult of brutish beasts
Had been too happy, sleep in cloth of gold

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PARTING. 143 o / yo % "...one, – sold and gone, " Gone, gone, – sold and gone, % o, 'ice-swamp dank and lone. To the rice-swamp dank and lone, – / "Z % *y, sad, and slow, Toiling through the weary day, % ... “lds at night they go, And at night the spoiler's prey. Ž //ZA, toil, and racked with pain, O that they had earlier died, *ir cheerless homes again, Sleeping calmly, side by side, *e no brother's voice shall greet them,- Where the tyrant's power is o'er, 'There no father's welcome meet them. And the fetter galls no more : Gone, gone, – sold and gone, Gone, gone, – sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone, To the rice-swämp dank and lone, Frorra Virginia's hills and waters, – From Virginia's hills and waters, – Woe is rene, my stolen daughters Woe is me, my stolen daughters : Gone, gone, – sold and gone, Gorne. <one, -sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone. To the rice-swamp dank and lone, By the holy love He beareth, – From the tro-e whose shadow lay - By the bruised reed He spareth, – On thor clail-ihood's place of play, -- O, may He, to whom alone yo o “oolspring where they drank, - All their cruel wrongs are known, Rock, o hill, and rivulet bank, - Still their hope and refuge prove, s Fro”, solemn house of prayer, With a more than mother's love. - A "***oly counsels there, — Gone, gone, – sold and gone, o: *one, – sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone, o: the rice-swamp dank and lone, From Virginia's hills and waters, – W.Y. g. nia's hills and waters, – Woe is me, my stolen daughters * - *s me, my stolen daughters John GREENLEAF WHITTIER. P A R T IN G. ~ : *S SHIPS BECALMED. o ... ! and o great seaso As shi ough ne'er that earliest parting past, W. o becamed at eve, that lay On your wide plain they join again, Two to..." Yas drooping, side by side, Together lead them home at last. Are o, * of sail, at dawn of day ****e long leagues apart descried. o: port, methought, alike they sought, — When fell - - O ne purpose hold wher: er they fare; Awo al the night, up sprang the breeze, bounding breeze, 0 rushing seas, Nor drea he darkling hours they plied ; At last, at last, unite them there. By eae * but each the selfsame seas ARTHUR HUGh Clouch. Vas cleaving, side by side: —oEen 80 oil.. **it why the tale reveal AE FOND KISS BEFORE WE PART. ief, * ~~ - --""s--, s hom, year by year unchanged, AE fond kiss and then we sever ! Aston *** joined anew, to feel, ***i. l Ae fareweel, alas ! forever ! **l, soul from soul estranged? Deep in heart I’ll pledge thee : At dead - eep in neart-wrung tears pledge thee; - - - Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee. * es soight their sails were filled, Who shall say that fortune grieves him, o neit o rejoicing steered ; While the star of hope she leaves him t twist So Jiame, for neither willed Me; nae cheerful twinkle lights me; T hat first with dawn appeared. Dark despair around benights me. o veer, Bravo Row vain On, onward strain, I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy – - Throw *Sh *rks – in light, in darkness too ! Naething could resist my Nancy: "Yo \\\\ Yinds and tides one compass guides: But to see her was to love her, s * and your own selves be true. Love but her, and love forever. * - —L \ \ l

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CoME to me, O my Mother come to me,
Thine own son slowly dying far away !
Through the moist ways of the wide ocean, blown
By great invisible winds, come stately ships
To this calm bay for quiet anchorage;
They come, they rest awhile, they go away,
But, O my Mother, never comest thou !
The snow is round thy dwelling, the white snow,
That cold soft revelation pure as light,
And the pine-spire is mystically fringed,
Laced with incrusted silver.
The winter is decrepit, underborn,
A leper with no power but his disease.
Why am I from thee, Mother, far from thee ?
Far from the frost enchantment, and the woods
Jewelled from bough to bough O home, my
home !
O river in the valley of my home,
With mazy-winding motion intricate,
Twisting thy deathless music underneath
The polished ice-work, - must I nevermore
Behold thee with familiar eyes, and watch
Thy beauty changing with the changeful day,
Thy beauty constant to the constant change
DAvi D GRAY.

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LoRD, I am weeping. As Thou wilt, O Lord,
Do with him as Thou wilt; but O my God,
Let him come back to die | Let not the fowls
O' the air defile the body of my child,
My own fair child, that when he was a babe,
I list up in my arms and gave to Thee
Let not his garment, Lord, be vilely parted,
Nor the fine linen which these hands have spun
Fall to the stranger's lot Shall the wild bird,
That would have pilfered of the ox, this year
Disdain the pens and stalls Shall her blind
young,
That on the fleck and moult of brutish beasts
Had been too happy, sleep in cloth of gold
Whereof each thread is to this beating heart

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