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The hare likes the brake and the braird on the lea;

But Lucy likes Jamie;- she turned and she lookit,

She thocht the dear place she wad never mair see.

Ah, weel may young Jamie gang dowie and cheerless!

And weel may he greet on the bank o' the burn!

For bonnie sweet Lucy, sae gentle and peerless,

Lies cauld in her grave, and will never




IN summer, when the days were long, We walked together in the wood;

Our heart was light, our step was strong, Sweet flutterings were in our blood, In summer, when the days were long.

We strayed from morn till evening


We gathered flowers, and wove us


We walked mid poppies red as flame, Or sat upon the yellow downs;

And always wished our life the same.

In summer, when the days were long, We leaped the hedge-row, crossed the brook;

And still her voice flowed forth in song, Or else she read some graceful book, In summer, when the days were long.

And then we sat beneath the trees, With shadows lessening in the noon; And in the sunlight and the breeze We feasted, many a gorgeous June, While larks were singing o'er the leas.

In summer, when the days were long, On dainty chicken, snow-white bread,

We feasted, with no grace but song; We plucked wild strawberries, ripe and red,

In summer, when the days were long.

We loved, and yet we knew it not, For loving seemed like breathing then;

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.

My heart is light, my step is strong;

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

For love brings back those hours of For fortune's cruelty, for love's sure cross,


In summer, when the days are long.



UPON the white sea-sand

There sat a pilgrim band,

For the wrecks of land and sea! But, however it came to thee, Thine, stranger, is life's last and heaviest loss."




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


While evening waned away From breezy cliff and bay, And the strong tides went out with weary

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There were who mourned their youth

With a most loving ruth,

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

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


And one upon the west Turned an eye that would not rest, For far-off hills whereon its joys had


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


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TWELVE years are gone since Matthew. Lee

Held in this isle unquestioned sway; A dark, low, brawny man was he; His law, "It is my way." Beneath his thick-set brows a sharp light broke

From small gray eyes; his laugh a triumph spoke.

Cruel of heart and strong of arm,

Loud in his sport and keen for spoil, He little recked of good or harm, Fierce both in mirth and toil; Yet like a dog could fawn, if need there were;

Speak mildly, when he would, or look in


Amid the uproar of the storm,

And by the lightning's sharp, red glare,

Were seen Lee's face and sturdy form; His axe glanced quick in air: Whose corpse at morn is floating in the sedge?

There's blood and hair, Mat, on thy axe's edge.


HE's now upon the spectre's back, With rein of silk and curb of gold. 'Tis fearful speed!--the rein is slack Within his senseless hold; Upborne by an unseen power, he onward rides,

Yet touches not the shadow-beast he strides.

He goes with speed; he goes with dread! And now they're on the hanging steep!

And, now! the living and the dead,

They'll make the horrid leap! The horse stops short; - his feet are on

the verge.

He stands, like marble, high above the surge.

And, nigh, the tall ship yet burns on, With red, hot spars, and crackling flame.

From hull to gallant, nothing's gone. She burns, and yet 's the same! Her hot, red flame is beating, all the night,

On man and horse, in their cold, phosphor light.

Through that cold light the fearful man Sits looking on the burning ship. He ne'er again will curse and ban. How fast he moves the lip! And yet he does not speak, or make a sound!

What see you, Lee? the bodies of the drowned?

"I look where mortal man may not,
Into the chambers of the deep.

I see the dead, long, long forgot;
I see them in their sleep.

A dreadful power is mine, which none can know

Save he who leagues his soul with death and woe.

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