uldna but tak again Naebody's bairn.

She cam smiling sweetly as young mornin' daw,
Like lown simmer gloamin' she faded awa,
And lo! how serenely that lone e'ening starn
Shines on the greensward that haps Naebody's bairn!

CASTLES IN THE AIR.

The bonnie, bonnie bairn sits pokin' in the ase,
Glowerin' in the fire wi' his wee round face;
Laughin' at the fuffin low--what sees he there?
Ha! the young dreamer 's biggin' castles in the air!

His wee chubby face, an' his towzy curly pow,
Are laughin' an noddin' to the dancin' lowe,
He 'll brown his rosy cheeks, and singe his sunny hair,
Glowerin' at the imps wi' their castles in the air.

He sees muckle castles towerin' to the moon,
He sees little sodgers puin' them a' doun;
Warlds whomlin' up an' doun, blazin' wi' a flare,
Losh! how he loups, as they glimmer in the air.

For a' sae sage he looks, what can the laddie ken?
He 's thinkin' upon naething, like mony mighty men,
A wee thing mak's us think, a sma' thing mak's us stare,--
There are mair folks than him biggin' castles in the air.

Sic a night in winter may weel mak' him cauld;
His chin upon his buffy hand will soon mak' him auld;
His brow is brent sae braid, oh, pray that Daddy Care
Wad let the wean alane wi' his castles in the air.

He 'll glower at the fire, an' he 'll keek at the light;
But mony sparkling stars are swallow'd up by night;
Aulder e'en than his are glamour'd by a glare,
Hearts are broken--heads are turn'd--wi' castles in the air.

ILKA BLADE O' GRASS KEPS ITS AIN DRAP O' DEW.

Confide ye aye in Providence, for Providence is kind,
An' bear ye a' life's changes wi' a calm an' tranquil mind,
Though press'd an' hemm'd on every side, hae faith an' ye 'll win through,
For ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew.

Gin reft frae friends, or crost in love, as whiles nae doubt ye 've been,
Grief lies deep-hidden in your heart, or tears flow frae your e'en,
Believe it for the best, and trow there 's good in store for you,
For ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew.

In lang, lang days o' simmer when the clear and cludless sky
Refuses ae wee drap o' rain to Nature parch'd and dry,
The genial night, wi balmy breath, gaurs verdure spring anew,
An' ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew.

Sae lest 'mid f