.
While a lonely watch-fire smoulders, who its dying red would smother,
That gives what little light there is to a darksome hill?"

I rose up, I made no moan, I did not cry nor falter,
But slowly in the twilight I came to Cromer town.
What can wringing of the hands do that which is ordained to alter?
He had climbed, had climbed the mountain, he would ne'er come down.

But, O my first, O my best, I could not choose but love thee:
O, to be a wild white bird, and seek thy rocky bed!
From my breast I'd give thee burial, pluck the down and spread above thee;
I would sit and sing thy requiem on the mountain head.

Fare thee well, my love of loves! would I had died before thee!
O, to be at least a cloud, that near thee I might flow,
Solemnly approach the mountain, weep away my being o'er thee,
And veil thy breast with icicles, and thy brow with snow!

SUPPER AT THE MILL.

_Mother._
Well, Frances.

_Frances._
Well, good mother, how are you?

_M._ I'm hearty, lass, but warm; the weather's warm:
I think 'tis mostly warm on market days.
I met with George behind the mill: said he,
"Mother, go in and rest awhile."

_F._ Ay, do,
And stay to supper; put your basket down.

_M._ Why, now, it is not heavy?

_F._ Willie, man,
Get up and kiss your Granny. Heavy, no!
Some call good churning luck; but, luck or skill,
Your butter mostly comes as firm and sweet
As if 'twas Christmas. So you sold it all?

_M._ All but this pat that I put by for George;
He always loved my butter.

_F._ That he did.

_M._ And has your speckled hen brought off her brood?

_F._ Not yet; but that old duck I told you of,
She hatched eleven out of twelve to-day.

_Child._ And, Granny, they're so yellow.

_M._ Ay, my lad,
Yellow as gold--yellow as Willie's hair.

_C._ They're all mine, Granny, father says they're mine.

_M._ To think of that!

_F._ Yes, Granny, only think!
Why, father means to sell them when they're fat.
And put the money in the savings-bank,
And all against our Willie goes to school:
But Willie would not touch them--no, not he;
He knows that father would be angry else.

_C._ But I want one to play with--O, I want
A little yellow duck to take to bed!

_M._ What! would ye rob the poor old mother, then?

_F._ Now, Granny, if you'll hold the babe awhil