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These roofs demand; listen! with prelude slow,
Wafted to heaven, and mingling with the sighs
Thou, unsubdued in silent majesty,
William Lisle Bowles.
THE MALTBY YEWS.
NAMED Maltby yews, with trunks like stone!
And, dead alive, they sternly moulder.
Full many a race have ye outlived
Of men whose lives were crime and sorrow.
Age after age, while Time grew old,
And high above the full-voiced lark
That with the rock coeval seemeth;
O, could I write upon your gloom
A solemn verse that would not perish,
SHALL behold far off thy towering crest, Proud mountain! from thy heights as slow I stray Down through the distant vale my homeward way, I shall behold upon thy rugged breast The parting sun sit smiling: me the while Escaped the crowd, thoughts full of heaviness May visit, as life's bitter losses press Hard on my bosom; but I shall beguile
The thing I am, and think that even as thou
William Lisle Bowles.
EREWHILE I saw ye faintly through far haze
Spread many miles above the fields of sea;
My dear, dear bride, two days had made thee mine,
MISADVENTURES AT MARGATE.
WAS in Margate last July, I walked upon the pier, "What make
The gloom upon your youthful cheek speaks anything but joy ";
Again I said, "What make you here, you little vulgar Boy?"
He frowned, that little vulgar Boy, - he deemed I meant to scoff, —
And when the little heart is big, a little "sets it off." He put his finger in his mouth, his little bosom rose, He had no little handkerchief to wipe his little nose! "Hark! don't hear, my you little man ? it's striking, nine," I said,
"An hour when all good little boys and girls should be in bed.
Run home and get your supper, else your Ma will scold, O fie!
It's very wrong indeed for little boys to stand and cry!"
The tear-drop in his little eye again began to spring, His bosom throbbed with agony, - he cried like any
I stooped, and thus amidst his sobs I heard him "Ah!
I have n't got no supper, and I have n't got no Ma!
"My father, he is on the seas, and gone!
And I am here, on this here pier, to roam the world alone;
I have not had this livelong day one drop to cheer my heart,
Nor 'brown' to buy a bit of bread with, - let alone a tart.
my mother's dead
"If there's a soul will give me food, or find me in employ,
By day or night, then blow me tight!" (he was a vulgar Boy ;)
"And now I'm here, from this here pier it is my fixed intent
To jump as Mr. Levi did from off the Monument!" "Cheer up! cheer up! my little man, - cheer up!" I kindly said,
"You are a naughty boy to take such things into your head;