54 RANGER'S GRAVE. Free from fancy's cruel skill, Time when all that meets the view, Then to toss the circling ball, RANGER'S GRAVE.-Mrs. Southey. HE's dead and gone! he's dead and gone! And the daisy blows, And the green grass grows, He's dead and gone! he's dead and gone! Where he loved to lie, In summer time. RANGER'S GRAVE. We've laid him there, where the blessed air Disports with the lovely light, And raineth showers Of those sweet flowers, So silver white; 55 Where the blackbird sings, and the wild bee's wings Make music all day long, And the cricket at night (A dusky sprite!) Takes up the song. He loved to lie where his wakeful eye Could keep me still in sight, Or a look of mine, Brought him like light. Nor word, nor sign, nor look of mine, And frolic round, Shall bring him now. But he taketh his rest, where he loved best In the days of his life to be, And that place will not Be a common spot Of earth to me. 56 CHRISTMAS TIMES. CHRISTMAS TIMES. Howard. "T WAS the night before Christmas, and all thre Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse; Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name: Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer! now, On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Dunder and Blixen ! THE PET LAMB. 57 And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof soot; A bundle of toys was flung on his back, And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack. merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry; ; THE dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink; I heard a voice; it said, "Drink, pretty creature, drink." 58 THE PET LAMB. And, looking o'er the hedge, before me I espied A snow-white mountain lamb, with a maiden at its side. No other sheep were near, the lamb was all alone, While to that mountain lamb she gave its evening meal. The lamb, while from her hand he thus his supper took, Seemed to feast with head and ears, and his tail with pleasure shook; 'Drink, pretty creature, drink," she said, in such a tone, That I almost received her heart into my own. "T was little Barbara Lethwaite, a child of beauty rare! I watched them with delight, they were a lovely pair. Now with her empty can the maiden turned away; But ere ten yards were gone, her footsteps she did stay. Towards the lamb she looked; and from that shady place I unobserved could see the workings of her face; bring, Thus, thought I, to her lamb that little maid might sing: |