SLEEP

O HAPPY Sleep! thou bear'st upon thy breast
The blood-red poppy of enchanting rest,
Draw near me through the stillness of this place
And let thy low breath move across my face,
As faint wind moves above a poplar's crest.

The broad seas darken slowly in the west;
The wheeling sea-birds call from nest to nest;
Draw near and touch me, leaning out of space,
O happy Sleep!

There is no sorrow hidden or confessed,
There is no passion uttered or suppressed,

Thou canst not for a little while efface;
Enfold me in thy mystical embrace,

Thou sovereign gift of God most sweet, most blest,
O happy Sleep!

Ada Louise Martin [18

THE QUIET NIGHTS

UNMINDFUL of my low desert
Who turn e'en blessings to my hurt,
God sends me graces o'er and o'er,
More than the sands on the seashore.

Among the blessings He doth give
My starveling soul that she may live,
I praise Him for my nights He kept
And all the quiet sleep I slept.

Since I was young, who now grow old,
For all those nights of heat, of cold,
I slept the sweet hours through, nor heard
Even the call of the first bird.

kness covered me

a great sea,

to bould lie s, who should to

iquity.

MAH DOM.

rance dripping sweet

s of heat, or

ws drenched with dew;

eep my eyelids knew.

gel kept my bed

lt down and prayed; hild I slept until

at the window-sill.

for the nights of stars,

n, with his rings, and Mars.

d the Milky Way;

n the Summer lightnings play.

a Milky Way I trod,

gh the mercy of my God

lk and honey, wrapped in ease
ess and sweet heaviness!

Him for the wakening bird e struck hours I have not heard, r the morns so cool, so kind, ound me fresh in heart and mind.

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ng the gifts of His mercy,
e than the leaves upon the tree,
sands upon the shore, I keep
name my lovely nights of sleep.
Katharine Tynan [1861-

HOME AND FATHERLAND

HAME, HAME, HAME

HAME, hame, hame, O hame fain wad I be

O hame, hame, hame, to my ain countree!

When the flower is i' the bud and the leaf is on the tree,
The lark shall sing me hame in my ain countree;
Hame, hame, hame, O hame fain wad I be—
O hame, hame, hame, to my ain countree!

The green leaf o' loyaltie's beginning for to fa',
The bonnie White Rose it is withering an' a';
But I'll water 't wi' the blude of usurping tyrannie,
An' green it will graw in my ain countree.

O, there's nocht now frae ruin my country can save,
But the keys o' kind heaven, to open the grave;
That a' the noble martyrs whą died for loyaltie
May rise again an' fight for their ain countree.

The great now are gane, a' wha ventured to save,
The new grass is springing on the tap o' their grave;
But the sun through the mirk blinks blithe in my e'e,
"I'll shine on ye yet in your ain countree."

Hame, hame, hame, O hame fain wad I be→
O hame, hame, hame, to my ain countree!

Allan Cunningham [1784-1842]

HOME, SWEET HOME!

From "Clari, the Maid of Milan "

'MID pleasures and palaces though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home;
A charm from the sky seems to hallow us there,
Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere.

Home, Home, sweet, sweet Home!

There's no place like Home! there's no place like Home!

My Old Kentucky Home

om home, splendor dazzles in vain; my lowly thatched cottage again! singing gayly, that came at my call,→

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hem, and the peace of mind, dearer than all!

Home, sweet, sweet Home!

place like Home! there's no place like Home!

t 'tis to sit 'neath a fond father's smile,
ares of a mother to soothe and beguile!
delight mid new pleasures to roam,
ne, oh, give me, the pleasures of home!
e! Home! sweet, sweet Home!

place like Home! there's no place like Home!

'll return, overburdened with care;

's dearest solace will smile on me there;
from that cottage again will I roam;
so humble, there's no place like home.

el Home! sweet, sweet Home!

o place like Home! there's no place like Home! John Howard Payne [1792-1852]

MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME

shines bright in the old Kentucky home;

ummer, the darkeys are gay;

n-top's ripe, and the meadow's in the bloom,

e the birds make music all the day.

ung folks roll on the little cabin floor, erry, all happy and bright;

by hard times comes a-knocking at the door:my old Kentucky home, good-night!

Weep no more, my lady,

O, weep no more to-day!

e will sing one song for the old Kentucky home, For the old Kentucky home, far away.

unt no more for the possum and the coon, he meadow, the hill, and the shore;

ing no more by the glimmer of the moon, he bench by the old cabin door.

The day goes by like a shadow o'er the heart,
With sorrow, where all was delight;

The time has come when the darkeys have to part:-
Then my old Kentucky home, good-night!

The head must bow, and the back will have to bend,
Wherever the darkey may go;

A few more days and the troubles all will end,
In the field where the sugar-canes grow.
A few more days for to tote the weary load,—
No matter, 'twill never be light;

A few more days till we totter on the road:-
Then my old Kentucky home, good-night!

Weep no more, my lady,

O, weep no more to-day!

We will sing one song for the old Kentucky home,
For the old Kentucky home, far away.

Stephen Collins Foster [1826-1864]

THE OLD FOLKS AT HOME

WAY down upon de Suwanee Ribber,

Far, far away,

Dere's wha my heart is turning ebber,
Dere's wha de old folks stay.

All up and down de whole creation

Sadly I roam,

Still longing for de old plantation,

And for de old folks at home.

All de world am sad and dreary,

Eb'rywhere I roam;

Oh, darkeys, how my heart grows weary,
Far from de old folks at home!

All round de little farm I wandered

When I was young,

Den many happy days I squandered,
Many de songs I sung.