nge, her hearte was gladsome now. nge, a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, e as she sat upon the thorne; outh was there, n rent her haire, sad despaire I was borne!" ge, she perished forlorne. ge, a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, rde as she sat upon the briar; lovely Childe, was meek and mild, he smiled sire; ge, a Cherub mote admire. But I laye a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, And sadly sang the Birde as it perched upon a bier; That joyous smile was gone, And the face was white and wan, As the downe upon the Swan As I laye a-thynkynge-oh! bitter flowed the tear! As I laye a-thynkynge, the golden sun was sinking, While, soaring to the skies, 'Mid the stars she seemed to rise, As I laye a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, It boots not to delay," 'Twas so she seemed to saye, "HERE IS REST!" Richard Harris Barham [1788—1845] THE HARP OF SORROW SORROW has a harp of seven strings And plays on it unceasing all the day; The first string sings of love that is long dead, Ethel Clifford [18 THE JOURNEY ONWARDS Her trembling pennant still looked back The shower-sodden earth, the earth-colored streams, They breathe on me awake, and moan to me in dreams, And yonder ivy fondling the broke castle-wall, It pulls upon my heart till the wild tears fall. The cabin-door looks down a furze-lighted hill, SPIRIT OF SADNESS SHE loved the Autumn, I the Spring, Some look in all things made her sigh, Yea! sad to her the morning sky: I hear her say it still in dreams. But when the day grew gray and old, Spirit of Sadness, in the spheres NO MORE THIS is the Burden of the Heart, |