164

THE LEGEND OF THE STEPMOTHER.

I heard the cry of a little one,

My bairn that could neither talk nor run
My little, little one, uncaressed,

Starving for lack of the milk of the breast!
And I rose from sleep and entered in,
And found my little one pinched and thin,
And crooned a song and hushed its moan,
And put its lips to my white breast-bone;
And the red, red moon that lit the place
Went white to look at the little face;

And I kissed and kissed, and I could not weep,
As it went to sleep, as it went to sleep.

VI.

As it lay asleep, as it lay asleep,
I set it down in the darkness deep,
Smoothed its limbs and laid it out,
And drew the curtains around about;
Then into the dark, dark room I hied.
Where he lay awake at the woman's side;
And though the chamber was black as night
He saw my face, for it was so white.

I gazed in his eyes, and he shrieked in pain,
And I knew he would never sleep again;
And back to my grave went silently,
And soon my baby was brought to me.
My son and daughter beside me rest,
My little baby is on my breast ;
Our bed is warm and our grave is deep -
But he cannot sleep, he cannot sleep!

ROBERT BUCHANAN.

THERE's no dew left on the daisies and clover,

There's no rain left in heaven.

I've said my "Seven times" over and over

Seven times one are seven.

166

I am old

SEVEN TIMES ONE.

so old I can write a letter;
My birthday lessons are done.

The lambs play always- they know no better;
They are only one times one.

O Moon! in the night I have seen you sailing
And shining so round and low.

You were bright— ah, bright! — but your light is failing :
You are nothing now but a bow.

You Moon, have you done something wrong in heaven,
That God has hidden your face?

I hope, if you have, you will soon be forgiven,
And shine again in your place.

You 've powdered your legs with gold.
O brave marsh Mary-buds, rich and yellow,
Give me your money to hold !

O columbine! open your folded wrapper,
Where two twin turtle-doves dwell!

O cuckoo-pint! toll me the purple clapper
That hangs in your clear green bell!

And show me your nest, with the young ones in it
I will not steal them away:

I am old! you may trust me, linnet, linnet!

I am seven times one to-day.

JEAN INGELOW.

WHEN I COME HOME.

AROUND me Life's hell of fierce ardors burns,

When I come home, when I come home;
Over me Heaven with her starry heart yearns,
When I come home, when I come home.
For the feast of God garnished, the palace of Night
At a thousand star-windows is throbbing with light.
London makes mirth; but I know God hears

The sobs in the dark, and the dropping of tears;
For I feel that He listens down Night's great dome,
When I come home, when I come home:

Home, home, when I come home —
Far i' the night, when I come home!

I walk under Night's triumphal arch,

When I come home, when I come home, Exulting with life like a conqueror's march,

When I come home, when I come home. I pass by the rich-chambered mansions that shine, Overflowing with splendor like goblets with wine: I have fought, I have vanquished, the dragon of toil, And before me my golden Hesperides smile; And O, but Love's flowers make rich the gloom, When I come home, when I come home!

Home, home, when I come home

Far i' the night, when I come home!

168

WHEN I COME HOME.

O, the sweet, merry mouths upturned to be kist,
When I come home, when I come home!
How the younglings yearn from the hungry nest,
When I come home, when I come home!
My weary, worn heart into sweetness is stirred,
And it dances and sings like a singing bird
On the branch nighest heaven-a-top of my life-

As I clasp thee, my winsome, wooing Wife!

And thy pale cheek with rich, tender passion doth bloom
When I come home, when I come home:

Home, home, when I come home

Far i' the night, when I come home!

Clouds fall off the shining face of my life,

When I come home, when I come home,
And leave heaven bare on thy bosom, sweet Wife,
When I come home, when I come home!
With her smiling energies, Faith warm and bright,
With love glory-crowned and serenely alight
With her womanly beauty and queenly calm—
She steals to my heart with her blessing of balm ;
And O, but the wine of love sparkles with foam
When I come home, when I come home!

Home, home, when I come home:

Far i' the night, when I come home!

GERALD MASSEY.