H MORNING DEW.

WHY do ye weep, sweet babes? Can tears
Speak grief in you,
Who were but born
Just as the modest morn
Teemed her refreshing dew?
Alas! ye have not known that shower
That mars a flower;
Nor felt the unkind
Breath of a blasting wind;
Nor are ye worn with years;
Or warped as we,
Who think it strange to see
Such pretty flowers, like to orphans young.
Speaking by tears before ye have a tongue.

Speak, whimpering younglings, and make known
The reason why
Ye droop and weep,
Is it for want of sleep,
Or childish lullaby
Or that ye have not seen as yet
The violet
Or brought a kiss
From that sweetheart to this?
No, no; this sorrow shown
By your tears shed,
Would have this lecture read:
That things of greatest, so of meanest worth.
Conceived with grief are, and with tears brought forth.

HERRICK.

_A RED, RED ROSE._

TUNE--"_Wishaw's favourite."_

O, MY luve's like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June:
O, my luve's like the melodie
That's sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass.
So deep in hive am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt w' the sun;
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only luve!
And fare thee weel a while;
And I will come again, my luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile.

BURNS.

VIRGINS promised when I died,
That they would each primrose-tide
Duly, morn and evening, come,
And with flowers dress my tomb.
--Having promised, pay your debts,
Maids, and here strew violets.

ROBERT HERRICK.

MUSIC, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory;
Odours when sweet violets sicken,
Love within the sense they quicken.

Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the beloved's bed;
And so thy thoughts when thou art gone.
Love itself shall slumber on.

SHELLEY.

RADIANT sister of the day
Awake! arise! and come away!
To the wild woods and the plains,
To the pools where winte