Brown hands splashed with mulberry Content with vaguest feathers and blood, The basket wreathed with mulberry leaves Hiding the berries beneath them; good! Let us take whatever the young rogue gives. For you know, old friend, I haven't hairs One is a farmer there, and married; One has wandered over the sea. And, if you ask me, I hardly know Whother I'd be the dead or the clown, The clod above or the clay below. Or this listless dust by fortune blown To alien lands. For, however it is, But if I could turn from the long de- Ah me! should I paint the morrows feat again In quite the colors so faint today, And with the imperial mulberry's stain Then, while the grasshopper sung out All our atoms are changed, they shrill I care not how these flowers may be Oh, the broom, the yellow broom! TIBBIE INGLIS. BONNIE Tibbie Inglis! Sixteen summers had she seen,- She was made for happy thoughts, She had hair as deeply black And dark eyes flashing under. Beside a mountain water, I found her, whom a king himself She was sitting 'mong the crags, Tears were starting to her eyes, Solemn thought was o'er her; When she saw in that lone place A stranger stand before her. Crimson was her sunny cheek, And her lips seemed moving With the beatings of her heart; · How could I help loving? Age and care To the core Seemed it pitiful he should sit there. I have tottered here to look once "Here's a fool!" more! E'en this gray old rock where I am seated Is a jewel worth my journey here; It was summer, and we went to All the picture now to me how dear! school. Would not stay, For the game; When the stranger seemed to mark Old stone school-house! - it is still our play. Ah, to me her name was always heaven! She besought him all his grief to tell, (I was then thirteen, and she eleven,) Isabel! There the fields of clover, wheat, and One sweet spirit broke the silent In the cottage yonder, I was born. |