THE MOUNTAIN FIR. HEY sat beneath the mountain fir, With all his soul he looked at her— The tit-mice blue in fluttering flocks As stars in heavenly waters swim, With all her soul she looked at him And so was love led on. The squirrel sported on the bough, Above the distant mountain's brow The fir-tree breathed its balsam balm, The happy skies were hushed in calm— EARL OF SOUTHESK. THE LETTER. @HERE is another sweet as my sweet, Fine of the fine, and shy of the shy? Fine little hands, fine little feet— Dewy blue eye. Shall I write to her? shall I go? Ask her to marry me by and by? Somebody said that she'd say No; Ay or no, if ask'd to her face? Ay or no, from shy of the shy? Go, little letter, apace, apace, Fly; Fly to the light in the valley below- ALFRED TENNYSON. MARRIAGE MORNING. OIGHT, so low upon earth, L You send a flash to the sun. Oh, the woods and the meadows, Light, so low in the vale, You flash and lighten afar, For this is the golden morning of love, And you are his morning star. Flash, I am coming, I come, By meadow and stile and wood; Oh, lighten into my eyes and my heart, Into my heart and my blood! |