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Queen lily and rose in one; Shine out, little head, sunning over with curls,

To the flowers, and be their sun.

There has fallen a splendid tear

From the passion-flower at the gate. She is coming, my dove, my dear;

She is coming, my life, my fate; The red rose cries, "She is near, she is near;

And the white rose weeps, "She is late;"

The larkspur listens, "I hear, I hear;"

And the lily whispers, "I wait."

She is coming, my own, my sweet;

Were it ever so airy a tread, My heart would hear her, and beat, Were it earth in an earthy bed. My dust would hear her, and beat, Had I lain for a century dead: Would start and tremble under her feet,

And blossom in purple and red.

[From Maud.]

GO NOT, HAPPY DAY.

Go not, happy day,

From the shining fields, Go not, happy day,

Till the maiden yields. Rosy is the West,

Rosy is the South, Roses are her cheeks,

And a rose her mouth.

When the happy Yes
Falters from her lips,
Pass and blush the news
O'er the blowing ships,
Over blowing seas,

Over seas at rest,
Pass the happy news,

Blush it through the West, Till the red man dance

By his red cedar-tree. And the red man's babe Leap, beyond the sea. Blush from West to East, Blush from East to West, Till the West is East, Blush it through the West. Rosy is the West,

Rosy is the South, Roses are her cheeks, And a rose her mouth.

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THE DEATH OF THE OLD YEAR.

FULL knee-deep lies the winter snow, And the winter winds are wearily sighing:

Toll ye the church-bell sad and slow,
And tread softly and speak low,
For the old year lies a-dying.
Old year, you must not die:
You came to us so readily,
You lived with us so steadily,
Old year, you shall not die.

He lieth still; he doth not move; He will not see the dawn of day. He hath no other life above;

His face is growing sharp and thin.
Alack! our friend is gone.
Close up his eyes: tie up his chin:
Step from the corpse, and let him in
That standeth there alone,

And waiteth at the door.

There's a new foot on the floor, my friend,

And a new face at the door, my friend,

A new face at the door.

A WELCOME TO ALEXANDRA.

love. SEA-KINGS' daughter from over the

He gave me a friend, and a true, true-
And the new year will take 'em away.
Old year, you must not go:
So long as you have been with us,
Such joy as you have seen with us,
Old year, you shall not go..

He frothed his bumpers to the brim;
A jollier year we shall not see;
But though his eyes are waxing dim,
And though his foes speak ill of him,

He was a friend to me.

Old year; you shall not die:
We did so laugh and cry with you,
I've half a mind to die with you,
Old year, if you must die.

He was full of joke and jest,
But all his merry quips are o'er.
To see him die across the waste

His son and heir doth ride post-haste,

But he'll be dead before.

Every one for his own.

The night is starry and cold, my friend,

And the new year, blithe and bold, my friend,

Comes up to take his own.

How hard he breathes! over the snow
I heard just now the crowing cock.
The shadows flicker to and fro:
The cricket chirps: the light burns
low:

'Tis nearly twelve o'clock.

Shake hands before you die.
Old year, we'll dearly rue for you:
What is it we can do for you?
Speak out before you die.

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Two children in two neighbor villages [leas: Playing mad pranks along the healthy

With self-wrought evil of unnum- Two strangers meeting at a festival: Two lovers whispering by an orchard

bered years,

And doth the fruit of her dishonor reap.

And all the day heaven gathers back her tears

Into her own blue eyes so clear and deep,

And showering down the glory of lightsome day,

Smiles on the earth's worn brow to win her if she may.

wall:

Two lives bound fast in one with golden ease:

Two graves grass-green beside a gray church-tower

Washed with still rains and daisyblossomed;

Two children in one hamlet born and bred: [to hour. So runs the round of life from hour

WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.

ALTHOUGH I enter not,
Yet round about the spot,
Ofttimes I hover;
And near the sacred gate,
With longing eyes I wait,
Expectant of her.

AT THE CHURCH-GATE.

The minster-bell tolls out
Above the city's rout,

And noise and humming; They've hushed the minster-bell, The organ 'gins to swell,

She's coming,- coming!

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