O Rafe the page! O Rafe the page !
Ye stole the heart frae me :

O Rafe the page! O Rafe the page!
I wonder where ye be :
We ne'er may see Glenkindie more,
But may we never see thee?

Glenkindie came within the hall;
We set him on the dais,

And gave him bread, and gave him wine,
The best in all the place.

-We set for him the guests' high chair,

And spread the naperie :

Our Dame herself would serve for him, And I for Rafe, perdie !

LONG years their cabin stood

Out on the moor ;
More than one sorrow-brood

Pass'd through their door;
Ruin them over-cast,
Worse than one wintry blast ;
Famine's plague follow'd fast:
God help the poor!

There on that heap of fern,
Gasping for breath,

Lieth the wretched kérn,

Waiting for death : Famine had brought him low; Fever had caught him so, O thou sharp-grinding woe, Outwear thy sheath!

Dying, or living here

Which is the worse? Misery's heavy tear,

Back to thy source ! Who dares to lift her head Up from the scarcely dead? Who pulls the crazy shed

Down on the corse?

What though some rent was due,
Hast thou no grace?
So may God pardon you,
Shame of your race!

What though that home may be
Wretched and foul to see,
What if God harry thee

Forth from His face?

Widow'd and orphan'd ones,
Flung from your rest!

Where will you lay your bones?

Bad was your best.

Out on the dreary road,

Where shall be their abode ?
One of them sleeps with God:
Where are the rest?

PATIENCE1

Be patient, O be patient! Put your ear against the earth ;

Listen there how noiselessly the germ o' the seed has birth ;

How noiselessly and gently it upheaves its little way

Till it parts the scarcely-broken ground, and the blade stands up in the day.

Be patient, O be patient! the germs of mighty thought

Must have their silent undergrowth, must underground be wrought; But, as sure as ever there's a Power that makes the grass appear,

Our land shall be green with Liberty, the blade-time shall be here.

t

LOVE AND YOUTH

Two winged genii in the air

I greeted as they pass'd me by :
The one a bow and quiver bare,

The other shouted joyously.
Both I besought to stay their speed,
But never Love nor Youth had heed
Of my wild cry.

As swift and careless as the wind,
Youth fled, nor ever once look'd back ;
A moment Love was left behind,

But follow'd soon his fellow's track.
Yet loitering at my heart he bent
His bow, then smil'd with changed intent :
The string was slack.

TOO LATE

YES! thou art fair, and I had lov'd
If we in earlier hours had met
;
But ere tow'rd me thy beauty mov'd
The sun of Love's brief day had set.

Though I may watch thy opening bloom,
And its rich promise gladly see,
'T will not procrastinate my dooni :
The ripen'd fruit is not for me.

Yet, had I shar'd thy course of years,
And young as Hope beheld thy charms,
The love that only now endears
Perchance had given thee to my arms.