XI.

So you must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear,

To-morrow 'ill be the happiest time of all the glad New-year :

To-morrow 'ill be of all the year the maddest merriest day, For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

NEW-YEAR'S EVE.

I.

If you're waking call me early, call me early, mother dear,
For I would see the sun rise upon the glad New-year.
It is the last New-year that I shall ever see,

Then you may lay me low i' the mould and think no more

of me.

II.

To-night I saw the sun set: he set and left behind The good old year, the dear old time, and all my peace of mind;

And the New-year's coming up, mother, but I shall

never see

The blossom on the blackthorn, the leaf upon the tree.

III.

Last May we made a crown of flowers: we had a merry day;

Beneath the hawthorn on the green they made me Queen

of May;

And we danced about the may-pole and in the hazel

copse,

Till Charles's Wain came out above the tall white chimney-tops.

IV.

There's not a flower on all the hills: the frost is on the

pane :

I only wish to live till the snowdrops come again :

I wish the snow would melt and the sun come out on

high:

I long to see a flower so before the day I die.

The building rook 'ill caw from the windy tall elm-tree, And the tufted plover pipe along the fallow lea,

And the swallow 'ill come back again with summer o'er

the wave,

But I shall lie alone, mother, within the mouldering grave,

VI.

Upon the chancel-casement, and upon that grave of mine, In the early early morning the summer sun 'ill shine, Before the red cock crows from the farm upon the hill, When you are warm-asleep, mother, and all the world is still.

VII.

When the flowers come again, mother, beneath the waning light

You'll never see me more in the long gray fields at night; When from the dry dark wold the summer airs blow cool, On the oat-grass and the sword-grass, and the bulrush in the pool.

VIII.

You'll bury me, my mother, just beneath the hawthorn shade,

And you'll come sometimes and see me where I am lowly laid.

I shall not forget you, mother, I shall hear you when you

pass,

With your feet above my head in the long and pleasant

grass.

IX.

I have been wild and wayward, but you'll forgive me now; You'll kiss me, my own mother, upon my cheek and brow; Nay, nay, you must not weep, nor let your grief be wild, You should not fret for me, mother, you have another

child.

X.

If I can I'll come again, mother, from out my resting

place;

Though you'll not see me, mother, I shall look upon your

face;

Though I cannot speak a word, I shall harken what you

say,

And be often, often with you when think I'm far away.

XI.

you

Goodnight, goodnight, when I have said goodnight for

evermore,

And you see me carried out from the threshold of the

door;

Don't let Effie come to see me till my grave be growing

green :

She'll be a better child to you than ever I have been.