We found a heaven in every spot; Saw angels, too, in all good men ;

And dreamed of God in grove and grot.

In summer, when the days are long,
Alone I wander, muse alone.

I see her not; but that old song
Under the fragrant wind is blown,
In summer, when the days are long.

Alone I wander in the wood: But one fair spirit hears my sighs;

And half I see, so glad and good, The honest daylight of her eyes,

That charmed me under earlier skies.

In summer, when the days are long, I love her as we loved of old.

gold,

In summer, when the days are long.

FRANCES BROWNE.

While evening waned away
From breezy cliff and bay,

And the strong tides went out with weary

moan.

-

My heart is light, my step is strong; For love brings back those hours of For fortune's cruelty, for love's sure cross, For the wrecks of land and sea! But, however it came to thee, Thine, stranger, is life's last and heaviest

loss."

One spake, with quivering lip,
Of a fair freighted ship,

With all his household to the deep gone
down;

But one had wilder woe,
For a fair face, long ago
Lost in the darker depths of a great

town.

Some talked of vanished gold,
Some of proud honors told,

Some spake of friends that were their

trust no more;

And one of a green grave,
Beside a foreign wave,

That made him sit so lonely on the
shore.

But when their tales were done,
There spake among them one,

A stranger, seeming from all sorrow free:
"Sad losses have ye met,
But mine is heavier yet;

green;

And one upon the west

Turned an eye that would not rest, For far-off hills whereon its joys had

been.

For a believing heart hath gone from me."

LOSSES.

UPON the white sea-sand

WE ARE BRETHREN A'.

There sat a pilgrim band,

Telling the losses that their lives had A HAPPY bit hame this auld world would

known;

be,

If men, when they 're here, could make
shift to agree,

An' ilk said to his neighbor, in cottage
an' ha',
"Come, gi'e me
your hand, -
brethren a'."

we are

"Alas!" these pilgrims said,
"For the living and the dead,

ROBERT NICOLL.

[1814-1837.]

I ken na why ane wi' anither should fight, When to 'gree would make ae body cosie an' right,

When man meets wi' man, 't is the best way ava,

To say, "Gi'e me your hand, we are brethren a'."

There were who mourned their
youth

With a most loving ruth,

For its brave hopes and memories ever And I maun drink water, while you may

My coat is a coarse ane, an' yours may be fine,

drink wine;

But we baith ha'e a leal heart, unspotted
to shaw:

Sae gi'e me your hand,
ren a'.

we are breth

RICHARD H. DANA.

185

The knave ye would scorn, the unfaithfu' | Save, where the bold, wild sea-bird makes deride;

her home,

Her

shrill cry coming through the sparkling foam.

Ye would stand like a rock, wi' the truth
on your side;

Sae would I, an' naught else would I
value a straw:
Then gi'e me your hand,
we are breth-
ren a'.