Hope. I SHALL not see him yet, I know, for still And tho' I hurry and pant, his pace is slow; In the last valley somewhere, that I know. What tho' he pauses in the pleasant wheat My ears hear nothing till that meeting-time. Will my strength last me?—did not someone say The way was ever easier all the way, The road less rough, the barren waste less bare? The briers are long since past, the stones cut less, This hill is not so steep, let me but press Across the peak, I know he will be there. Rose-Fruit. THEY praised me when they found the new-born bud, And all my blood Flamed, as I burst in blossom, to requite Their dear delight. And still they praised my beauty, as I In the sun's view; grew “Then what will be their joy," said I, "to find My fruit behind?" But when the wind came, and revealed at last They said, ""Twere well this cumbering thing should go; New buds will blow." The South Country. WHEN I am living in the Midlands I light my lamp at evening, And the great hills of the South Country The great hills of the South Country And it's there walking in the high woods That I could wish to be, And the men that were boys when I was a boy Walking along with me. The men that live in North England I saw them for a day. Their hearts are set upon the waste fells, From their castle walls a man may see The mountains far away. The men that live in West England They have the secrets of the rocks, But the men that live in the South Country They get their laughter from the loud surf, The violets suddenly bloom at her feet, I never get between the pines But I smell the Sussex air, Nor I never come on a belt of sand But my home is there; And along the sky the line of the downs A lost thing could I never find, When I get towards the end. I will gather and carefully make my friends By them and the God of the South Country If I ever become a rich man, |