THIS girl was sweeter than the s… And daintier than the lamb upon th… Or Curine oyster. She, the flower… Outshone the light of Erythraean… The teeth of India that with poli…

I WHO all the winter through Cherished other loves than you, And kept hands with hoary policy i… Now I know the false and true, For the earnest sun looks through,

A picture-frame for you to fill, A paltry setting for your face, A thing that has no worth until You lend it something of your grac… I send (unhappy I that sing

HERE lies Erotion, whom at six y… Fate pilfered. Stranger (when I t… Who shall succeed me in my rural f… To this small spirit annual honour… Bright be thy hearth, hale be thy…

I NOW, O friend, whom noiselessl… Settle around, and whose small cha… Dusk as the sloping window takes i… * * * * * The kindly hill, as to complete ou…

HAIL, guest, and enter freely! A… Is, for your momentary visit, your… Who welcome you are but the guests… And know not our departure.

YOU looked so tempting in the pew… You looked so sly and calm — My trembling fingers played with y… As both looked out the Psalm. Your heart beat hard against my ar…

Late in the nicht in bed I lay, The winds were at their weary play… An’ tirlin’ wa’s an’ skirlin’ wae Through Heev’n they battered; - On-ding o’ hail, on-blaff o’ spray…

T last she comes, O never more In this dear patience of my pain To leave me lonely as before, Or leave my soul alone again.

THE broad sun, The bright day: White sails On the blue bay: The far—farers

Once only by the garden gate Our lips we joined and parted. I must fulfil an empty fate And travel the uncharted. Hail and farewell! I must arise,

You too, my mother, read my rhymes For love of unforgotten times, And you may chance to hear once mo… The little feet along the floor.

Blows the wind to-day, and the sun… Blows the wind on the moors to-day… Where about the graves of the mart… My heart remembers how! Grey recumbent tombs of the dead i…

When aince Aprile has fairly come… An’ birds may bigg in winter’s lum… An’ pleisure’s spreid for a’ and s… O’ whatna state, Love, wi’ her auld recruitin’ drum…

God, if this were enough, That I see things bare to the buf… And up to the buttocks in mire; That I ask nor hope nor hire, Nut in the husk,