e in Culver Dell.

The airy mornens still mid smite
Our windows wi' their rwosy light,
An' high-zunn'd noons mid dry the dew
On growen groun' below our shoe;
The blushen evenen still mid dye,
Wi' viry red, the western sky;
The zunny spring-time's quicknen power
Mid come to oben leaf an' flower;
An' days an' tides mid bring us on
Woone pleasure when another's gone.
But we must bid a long farewell
To days an' tides in Culver Dell.

OUR BE'THPLACE.

How dear's the door a latch do shut,
An' geaerden that a hatch do shut,
Where vu'st our bloomen cheaeks ha' prest
The pillor ov our childhood's rest;
Or where, wi' little tooes, we wore
The paths our fathers trod avore;
Or clim'd the timber's bark aloft,
Below the zingen lark aloft,
The while we heaerd the echo sound
Drough all the ringen valley round.

A lwonesome grove o' woak did rise,
To screen our house, where smoke did rise,
A-twisten blue, while yeet the zun
Did langthen on our childhood's fun;
An' there, wi' all the sheaepes an' sounds
O' life, among the timber'd grounds,
The birds upon their boughs did zing,
An' milkmaids by their cows did zing,
Wi' merry sounds, that softly died,
A-ringen down the valley zide.

By river banks, wi' reeds a-bound,
An' sheenen pools, wi' weeds a-bound,
The long-neck'd gander's ruddy bill
To snow-white geese did cackle sh'ill;
An' striden peewits heaesten'd by,
O' tiptooe wi' their screamen cry;
An' stalken cows a-lowen loud,
An' strutten cocks a-crowen loud,
Did rouse the echoes up to mock
Their mingled sounds by hill an' rock.

The stars that clim'd our skies all dark,
Above our sleepen eyes all dark,
An' zuns a-rollen round to bring
The seasons on, vrom Spring to Spring,
Ha' vled, wi' never-resten flight,
Drough green-bough'd day, an' dark-tree'd night;
Till now our childhood's pleaeces there,
Be gay wi' other feaeces there,
An' we ourselves do vollow on
Our own vorelivers dead an' gone.

THE WINDOW FREAeM'D WI' STWONE.

When Pentridge House wer still the nest
O' souls that now ha' better rest,
Avore the vier burnt to ground
His beams an' walls, that then wer sound,
'Ithin a nail-bestudded door,
An' passage wi' a stwonen vloor,
There spread the hall, where zun-light shone
In drough a window freaem'd wi' stwone.

A clavy-beam o' sheenen woak
Did span the he'th wi'