Romance "Turn again, turn again!" once they rang

and

Reality

cheerily,

While a boy listened alone;

Made his heart yearn again, musing so wearily
All by himself on a stone.

Poor bells! I forgive you; your good days are

over,

And mine, they are yet to be;

No listening, no longing, shall aught, aught dis

cover;

You leave the story to me.

The foxglove shoots out of the green matted heather,

And hangeth her hoods of snow;

She was idle, and slept till the sunshiny weather:
Oh, children take long to grow!

I wish and I wish that the spring would

go faster,

Nor long summer bide so late;
And I could grow on like the foxglove and aster,
For some things are ill to wait.

I wait for the day when dear hearts shall dis

cover,

While dear hands are laid on my head,

"The child is a woman-the book may close over, For all the lessons are said."

I wait for my story: the birds cannot sing it,
Not one, as he sits on the tree;

The bells cannot ring it, but long years, oh bring

it!

Such as I wish it to be.

Romance

and Reality

JEAN INGELOW.

The Long White Seam

As I came round the harbor buoy,
The lights began to gleam,

No wave the land-locked harbor stirred,
The crags were white as cream;
And I marked my love by candlelight
Sewing her long white seam.

It's aye sewing ashore, my dear,
Watch and steer at sea,

It's reef and furl, and haul the line,
Set sail and think of thee.

I climbed to reach her cottage door;
Oh sweetly my love sings!

Like a shaft of light her voice breaks forth,
My soul to meet it springs,

As the shining water leaped of old

When stirred by angel wings.

Aye longing to list anew,
Awake and in my dream,

Romance and

Reality

Sewing her long white seam.

Fair fall the lights, the harbor lights,

That brought me in to thee,

And peace drop down on that low roof,

For the sight that I did see,

And the voice, my dear, that rang so clear,
All for the love of me.

For O, for O, with brows bent low,

By the flickering candle's gleam, Her wedding gown it was she wrought, Sewing the long white seam.

JEAN INGELOW.

Hannah Binding Shoes

Poor lone Hannah,

Sitting at the window, binding shoes!
Faded, wrinkled,

Sitting, stitching, in a mournful muse.
Bright-eyed beauty once was she,
When the bloom was on the tree;-
Spring and winter,

Hannah's at the window, binding shoes.

Not a neighbor

Passing, nod or answer will refuse
To her whisper,

66
"Is there from the fishers any news?"

Oh, her heart's adrift with one
On an endless voyage gone ;—

Night and morning,

Hannah's at the window, binding shoes.

Fair young Hannah,

Ben, the sunburnt fisher, gaily wooes;
Hale and clever,

For a willing heart and hand he sues.
May-day skies are all aglow,

And the waves are laughing so!
For her wedding

Hannah leaves her window and her shoes.

May is passing;

'Mid the apple-boughs a pigeon cooes;
Hannah shudders,

For the mild south-wester mischief brews.
Round the rocks of Marblehead,
Outward bound a schooner sped;
Silent, lonesome,

Hannah's at the window, binding shoes.
"Tis November:

Now no tear her wasted cheek bedews,
From Newfoundland

Not a sail returning will she lose,

Whispering hoarsely: "Fishermen,
Have you, have you heard of Ben?"
Old with watching,

Hannah's at the window, binding shoes.

Romance and Reality

Romance and

Reality

Twenty winters

Bleak and drear the ragged shore she views,
Twenty seasons!

Never one has brought her any news,
Still her dim eyes silently

Chase the white sails o'er the sea;-
Hopeless, faithful,

Hannah's at the window, binding shoes.

LUCY LARCOM.

Lord Ullin's Daughter

A Chieftain to the Highlands bound
Cries" Boatman, do not tarry!
And I'll give thee a silver pound
To row us o'er the ferry!"

"Now who be ye, would cross Lochgyle
This dark and stormy water?"

"O I'm the chief of Ulva's isle,
And this, Lord Ullin's daughter.

"And fast before her father's men
Three days we've fled together,
For should he find us in the glen,
My blood would stain the heather.

His horsemen hard behind us ride-
Should they our steps discover,