And the broom's betroth'd to the bee;--
But I will plight with the dainty rose,
For fairest of all is she.

BALLAD.

She's up and gone, the graceless girl,
And robb'd my failing years!
My blood before was thin and cold
But now 'tis turn'd to tears;--
My shadow falls upon my grave,
So near the brink I stand,
She might have stay'd a little yet,
And led me by the hand!

Aye, call her on the barren moor,
And call her on the hill:
'Tis nothing but the heron's cry,
And plover's answer shrill;
My child is flown on wilder wings
Than they have ever spread,
And I may even walk a waste
That widen'd when she fled.

Full many a thankless child has been,
But never one like mine;
Her meat was served on plates of gold,
Her drink was rosy wine;
But now she'll share the robin's food,
And sup the common rill,
Before her feet will turn again
To meet her father's will!

RUTH.

She stood breast high amid the corn
Clasp'd by the golden light of morn,
Like the sweetheart of the sun,
Who many a glowing kiss had won.

On her cheek an autumn flush,
Deeply ripen'd;--such a blush
In the midst of brown was born,
Like red poppies grown with corn.

Round her eyes her tresses fell,
Which were blackest none could tell,
But long lashes veil'd a light,
That had else been all too bright.

And her hat, with shady brim,
Made her tressy forehead dim;--
Thus she stood amid the stooks,
Praising God with sweetest looks:--

Sure, I said, Heav'n did not mean,
Where I reap thou shouldst but glean,
Lay thy sheaf adown and come,
Share my harvest and my home.

THE PLEA OF THE MIDSUMMER FAIRIES.[8]

[Footnote 8: The opening Poem in the volume published by Hood in 1827,
under the same title. The Poem was prefaced by the following letter to
Charles Lamb:--

"My dear Friend, I thank my literary fortune that I am not reduced
like many better wits to barter dedications, for the hope or
promise of patronage, with some nominally great man; but that where
true affection points, and honest respect, I am free to gratify my
head and heart by a sincere inscription. An intimacy and dearness,
worthy of a much earlier date than our acquaintance can refer to,
direct me at once to your name; and with this acknowledgment of
your ever kind feeling towards me, I desire to record a respect and
admiration for you as a writer, which no one acquainted with our
literatur