There summer spreads her dappled robes anew,
There bends the snowy crest,

The pliant elder, where the sweet winds blow;
There hangs thy nest

Amidst the leafage, on some swaying bough;

There happy thou, love-blest,

May'st soon forget :-farewell-she marks not now: Thou canst not break the calm which wraps her brow; My lady sleeps,

At rest! At rest! At rest!

EUGENE FIELD.

[Born in St Louis, Missouri, 2d September 1850, but resides at Chicago. Author of A Model Primer (Denver Tribune Pub. Co., 1882); Culture's Garland (Tricknor & Co., Boston, 1887); A Little Book of Western Verse (Scribner's Sons, New York, 1890); and A Little Book of Profitable Tales (Scribner's Sons, New York, 1890).]

OUR TWO OPINIONS.

Us two wuz boys when we fell out-
Nigh to the age uv my youngest now;
Don't rec'lect what 'twuz about,

Some small diff'rence, I'll allow.
Lived next neighbours twenty years,
A-hatin' each other, me 'nd Jim-

He havin' his opinyin uv me

'Nd I havin' my opinyin uv him!

Grew up together, 'nd wouldn't speak,
Courted sisters, and marr'd 'em, too
"Tended same meetin' house oncet a week,
A-hatin' each other, through 'nd through.
But when Abe Linkern asked the West
F'r soldiers, we answered-me 'nd Jim-
He havin' his opinyin uv me

'Nd I havin' my opinyin uv him!

Down in Tennessee one night

Ther was sound uv firin' fur away, 'Nd the sergeant allowed ther'd be a fight With the Johnnie Rebs some time next day; 'Nd as I was thinkin' of Lizzie 'nd home, Jim stood afore me, long 'nd slimHe havin' his opinyin uv me

'Nd I havin' my opinyin uv him!

Seemed like we knew there wuz goin' to be
Serious trouble f'r me 'nd him-

Us two shuck hands, did Jim 'nd me,
But never a word from me or Jim !
He went his way 'nd I went mine,

'Nd into the battle's roar went weI havin' my opinyin uv Jim

'Nd he havin' his opinyin uv me!

Jim never come back from the War again,
But I haint forgot that last, last night
When, waitin' f'r orders, us two men

Made up and shuck hands, afore the fight; 'Nd, after it all, it's soothin' to know That here I be, 'nd yonder's Jim—

He havin' his opinyin uv me

'Nd I havin' my opinion uv him!

LULLABIES.

LULLABY.

FAIR is the castle up on the hill--
Hushaby, sweet my own!

The night is fair and the waves are still,
And the wind is singing to you and me
In this lowly home beside the sea-

Hushaby, sweet my own!

On yonder hill is store of wealth—
Hushaby, sweet my own!

And revellers drink to a little one's health;
But you and I bide night and day
For the other love that has sailed away-
Hushaby, sweet my own!

See not, dear eyes, the forms that creep
Ghostlike, O my own!

Out of the mists of the murmuring deep;
Oh, see them not and make no cry
'Til the angels of death have passed us by-
Hushaby, sweet my own!

Ah, little they reck of you and me-
Hushaby, sweet my own!

In our lonely home beside the sea;
They seek the castle up on the hill,
And there they will do their ghostly will—
Hushaby, O my own!

Here by the sea, a mother croons

Hushaby, sweet my own;"

In yonder castle a mother swoons

While the angels go down to the misty deep, Bearing a little one fast asleep—

Hushaby, sweet my own!

A DUTCH LULLABY.

WYNKEN, Blynken, and Nod one night

Sailed off in a wooden shoe

Sailed on a river of misty light

Into a sea of dew.

"Where are you going, and what do

The old moon asked the three.

"We have to come to fish for the herring-fish

That live in this beautiful sea;

Nets of silver and gold have we,"

Said Wynken,

Blynken,
And Nod.

The old moon laughed and sung a song

As they rocked in the wooden shoe,
And the wind that sped them all night long
Ruffled the waves of dew;

The little stars were the herring-fish
That lived in that beautiful sea;

"Now cast your nets wherever you wish,
But never afeard are we

So cried the stars to the fishermen three,

Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.

All night long their nets they threw
For the fish in the twinkling foam.

Then down from the sky came the wooden shoe,
Bringing the fishermen home.

'Twas all so pretty a sail, it seemed

As if it could not be;

And some folks thought 'twas a dream they'd dreamed

Of sailing that beautiful sea.

But I shall name you the fishermen three:

Wynken,

Blynken,

And Nod.

Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes,
And Nod is a little head,

And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies
Is a wee one's trundle-bed;

So shut your eyes while mother sings

Of wonderful sights that be.

And you shall see the beautiful things

As you rock in the misty sea

Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three

Wynken,

Blynken,
And Nod.

NORSE LULLABY,

THE sky is dark and the hills are white

As the storm-king speeds from the north to-night,
And this is the song the storm-king sings,

As over the world his cloak he flings:

"Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;" He rustles his wings and gruffly sings: "Sleep, little one, sleep."

On yonder mountain side a vine
Clings at the foot of a mother pine;
The tree bends over the trembling thing
And only the vine can hear her sing:

"Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep-
What shall you fear when I am here?
Sleep, little one, sleep."

The king may sing in his bitter flight,
The tree may croon to the vine to-night,
But the little snowflake at my breast
Liketh the song I sing the best-

"Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;
Weary thou art, anext my heart
Sleep, little one, sleep."

GEORGE WASHINGTON WRIGHT HOUGHTON.

[Born 12th August 1850, at Cambridge, Mass. Author of Christmas Booklet (1872); Songs from Over the Sea (1874); Album Leaves (1877); Drift from York Harbor (1879); Legend of St Olaf's Kirk (1880); and Niagara, and other Poems (1882). The poems given are quoted with the kind permission of Houghton, Mifflin & Co.]

ANNIVERSARY HYMN.

THERE have been nobler days, my friends,
And ruddier skies than ours,

When men wrought deeds, but God the ends,
And faiths grew into powers.