THE SHEPHERD'S PROPOSAL.

HE heather's beginning to bud, lass,
The bracken's a showing its green,
The trout are beginning to leap, lass,
No prettier country you've seen.

The red grouse are choosing their mates, love,

But I am a bachelor still;

Will 'ee come to the heather and furze, lass?

I'll love 'ee so well, if ye will.

Will 'ee come to the heather and furze, lass,
And leave the black smoke of the town?
I have sheep and a cow and a cot, lass,
And I'll buy 'ee a ring and a gown ;
And then we'll gang off to the church, lass,
That nestles alongside the hill;

Will 'ee come to the heather and furze, lass?

I'll love 'ee so well if ye will.

CRUEL HOURS.

5

CRUEL HOURS.

T was one day in the summer,

As I linger'd by her side,

That reproachful and complaining,

We did thus the swift hours chide :

"O cruel hours, so quickly flying!

What have we done to frighten you away?
Leave us not here, our happiness denying,
Why will ye go, nor suffer us to stay?"

It was one day in the falling,
When her gentle life had flown,
That, old memories recalling,

I reproach'd the hours, alone:

"O cruel. hours, so slowly creeping,

What have I done to make you linger so?

Why are ye thus me from my darling keeping?

Go faster yet yourselves, and let me go!"

'Twas then I heard a chanting
Of their voices as they fled,
And, knowing they were taunting,
I long'd to join the dead :-

Why went we fast? Because ye would not mind us; Your little quarrels and your small regrets

These fill'd your hearts, nor suffer'd you to bind us,
So love to thoughtlessness must pay her debt.
We fly not slow, but thought can fly far faster,
Your heart has flown, and wanders far ahead.
Hearts are not ours, life only we can master;
Be patient yet, we'll bear you to your dead."

CLOUDS.

7

CLOUDS.

H! the bonny bright clouds,

The fleecy clouds, the white clouds!
Blithe and gay I've watch'd you driving

all the summer day;

Have you nought to leave me?

I pray you, don't deceive me;

Surely you've a message for me? drop it on your way.

Coming from the west, clouds,

The quarter I love best, clouds,

You must have seen my darling; did she rest, or did

she play?

Why are you so unkind, clouds ?

Or is it you were blind, clouds?

Answer, are you heartless? Oh, 'tis cruel not to stay!

Oh! the dreary dark clouds,

The gloomy clouds, the stark clouds!

I've felt your heavy drops upon me all the weary day.

We were Standing in the Garden . Stephen H. Gatty

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