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IX.

The night-winds come and go, mother, upon the meadow grass, And the happy stars above them seem to brighten as they pass ; There will not be a drop of rain the whole of the livelong day, And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o'

the May.

X.

All the valley, mother, 'ill be fresh and green and still,
And the cowslip and the crowfoot are over all the hill,
And the rivulet in the flowery dale ’ill merrily glance and play,
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o'

the May.

XI.

So you must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear,
To-morrow ’ill be the happiest time of all the glad New-year :
To-morrow ’ill be of all the year the maddest, merriest day,
For I’m to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o'

the May.

NEW YEAR'S EVE.

I.

If you're waking call me carly, call me early, mother dear,

For I would see the sun rise upon the glad New-year. It is the last New-year that I shall ever see, Then you may lay me low i' the mould, and think no more of me.

II.

To-night I saw the sun set: he set and left behind
The good old year, the dear old time, and all my peace of mind;
And the New-year 's coming up, mother, but I shall never see
The blossom on the blackthorn, the leaf upon the tree.

NEW YEAR'S EVE.

53

III.

Last May we made a crown of flowers : we had a merry day;
Beneath the hawthorn on the green they made me Queen of May ;
And we danced about the May-pole and in the hazel copse,
Till Charles's Wain came out above the tall white chimney-tops.

IV.

There's not a flower on all the hills: the frost is on the pane :
I only wish to live till the snowdrops come again :
I wish the snow would melt and the sun come out on high :
I long to see a flower so before the day I die.

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The building rook ’ill caw from the windy tall elm-tree,
And the tufted plover pipe along the fallow lea,
And the swallow ’ill come back again with summer o'er the wave,
But I shall lie alone, mother, within the mouldering grave.

VI.

Upon the chancel-casement, and upon that grave of mine,
In the early, early morning the summer sun ’ill shine,
Before the red cock crows from the farm upon the hill,
When you are warm asleep, mother, and all the world is still.

VII.

When the flowers come again, mother, beneath the waning light,
You 'll never see me more in the long gray fields at night;
When from the dry dark wold the summer airs blow cool
On the oat-grass and the sword-grass, and the bulrush in the

pool.

VIII.

You ’ll bury me, my mother, just beneath the hawthorn shade, And you 'll come sometimes and see me where I am lowly laid.

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I shall not forget you, mother, I shall hear you when you pass, With your feet above my head in the long and pleasant grass.

IX.

I have been wild and wayward, but you 'll forgive me now; You 'll kiss me, my own mother, and forgive me ere I go : Nay, nay, you must not weep, nor let your grief be wild, You should not fret for me, mother, you have another child.

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If I can, I'll come again, mother, from out my resting-place; Though you ’ll not see me, mother, I shall look upon your face; Though I cannot speak a word, I shall hearken what you say, And be often, often with you when you think I'm far away.

XI.

Good night, good night, when I have said good night forever

more, And you see me carried out from the threshold of the door; Don't let Effie come to see me till my grave be growing green : She 'll be a better child to you than ever I have been.

XII.

She 'll find my garden-tools upon the granary floor;
Let her take 'em : they are hers: I shall never garden more :
But tell her, when I'm gone, to train the rose-bush that I set
About the parlor-window and the box of mignonette.

XIII.

Good night, sweet mother: call me before the day is born.
All night I lie awake, but I fall asleep at morn;
But I would see the sun rise upon the glad New-year,
So, if you ’re waking, call me, call me early, mother dear.

CONCLUSION.

I.

I THOUGHT to pass away before, and yet alive I am;

And in the fields all round I hear the bleating of the lamb. How sadly, I remember, rose the morning of the year! To die before the snowdrop came, and now the violet ’s here.

II.

O sweet is the new violet, that comes beneath the skies,
And sweeter is the young lamb's voice to me that cannot rise,
And sweet is all the land about, and all the flowers that blow,
And sweeter far is death than life to me that long to go.

III.

It seemed so hard at first, mother, to leave the blessed sun,
And now it seems as hard to stay ; and yet, His will be done!
But still I think it can't be long before I find release;
And that good man, the clergyman, has told me words of peace.

IV.

O blessings on his kindly voice and on his silver hair !
And blessings on his whole life long, until he meet me there !
O blessings on his kindly heart and on his silver head !
A thousand times I blest him, as he knelt beside my bed.

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He taught me all the mercy, for he showed me all the sin.
Now, though my lamp was lighted late, there 's One will let me in:
Nor would I now be well, mother, again, if that could be,
For my desire is but to pass to Him that died for me.

VI.

I did not hear the dog howl, mother, or the death-watch beat,
There came a sweeter token when the night and morning meet:
But sit beside my bed, mother, and put your hand in mine,
And Effie on the other side, and I will tell the sign.

VII.

All in the wild March-morning I heard the angels call;
It was when the moon was setting, and the dark was over all ;
The trees began to whisper, and the wind began to roll,
And in the wild March-morning I heard them call my soul.

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