VI. THE MOTHER'S RETURN. By the same. A MONTH, Sweet Little-ones, is passed Since your dear Mother went away, And she to-morrow will return; To-morrow is the happy day. O blessed tidings! thought of joy! Louder and louder did he shout, I told of hills, and far-off towns, No strife disturbs his Sister's breast; Her joy is like an instinct, joy She dances, runs without an aim, the note, Her Brother now takes up Then, settling into fond discourse, We told o'er all that we had done, We talked of change, of winter gone, To her these tales they will repeat, But, see, the evening Star comes forth! To bed the Children must depart; A moment's heaviness they feel, A sadness at the heart: They run up stairs in gamesome race; I could have joined the wanton chase. Five minutes past — and, O the change! And closed the sparkling eye. VII. LUCY GRAY; OR, SOLITUDE. OFT I had heard of Lucy Gray: I chanced to see at break of day No Mate, no comrade Lucy knew ; She dwelt on a wide Moor, ; The sweetest thing that ever grew Beside a human door! Yo u yet may spy the Fawn at play, The Hare upon the Green; But the sweet face of Lucy Gray Will never more be seen. "To-night will be a stormy night And take a lantern, Child, to light “That, Father! will I gladly do: 'Tis scarcely afternoon The Minster-clock has just struck two, And yonder is the Moon." At this the Father raised his hook, And snapped a faggot-band; He plied his work; and Lucy took The lantern in her hand. Not blither is the mountain roe: With many a wanton stroke Her feet disperse the powdery snow, up like smoke. That rises The storm came on before its time: She wandered up and down; And many a hill did Lucy climb; But never reached the town. |