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"If hope to the heart has but handed
A note with a promise of bliss,

'Tis by the next post countermanded,

And think how provoking is this!

"If joy like the sun on a river,
Delight on the spirit path threw,
'T was just like a gift that the giver
No sooner bestow'd than withdrew.

"If pleasure e'er paid me a visit,

And came with a will to remain, Another came asking 'Who is it?' The name of that other was pain!

"There's always some trouble or other,
With hardly a ray of release;
And daily one blow or another
Is breaking to pieces the peace!"

And so in his song he lamented;
But as for his music! alas!
The notes of the seldom-contented
Were those, even those, of an ass!

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MAY! Merry May! How the lovely hand of May
Opens doors of glory at the dawning of the day!
Oh! for words to tell how fair-

How like heaven the splendour where
Flourishes in upper air

Sunny bloom of gold!

How the rapture heaven reveals,
Tells of rapture heaven conceals!-

But the heart beholding, feels

What no words have told!

May! Merry May! How the willing hand of May
Opens doors of glory at the dawning of the day!

May! Merry May! How the melody of May
Wakes the heart to happiness!-O, listen to the lay!
Gentle angels of the morn

Wait on beauty newly born,
While the warblers in the thorn

Tell the joy they own,
Singing "Be from sorrow free;
Care not what to-morrow be!

God is good; and doth not He
Life with goodness crown ?"

May! Happy May! How the merry voice of May
Singeth from the dawning to the closing of the day!

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Said to have been made by the Hal of Kirklees Hall.-
A tale of the olden time.

It is of other days a tale,
Now ready to be told,
Driving a moral like a nail,
So, therefore, lo, behold!

The comic Hal, of Kirklees Hall,

Was, in his own queer way,
As willing at a moment's call,
As echo, to obey.

And sometimes when no spoken word
Had touched his outward ear,
He started, as in spirit stirr'd,
By some one speaking near.

It happen'd thus upon a day—
A day in distant years,
When summer's hand had wiped away
All trace of nature's tears,—

Is was sheepshearing time, in short,
And Hal, who near would keep,
Pronounced it as the primest sport,
The shearing of the sheep.

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"How well," said he, "they wield the shears! And wherefore may not I?"

A voice seemed urging in his ears,


'Well, Hal, why don't you try ?"

"I will," he said, "and that I will,
Soon as the men have done!
They mean to shear them all, but still,
I'm in for number one!

"There's one about as fat as grease,
Reposing in the park;

I'll bring it in, and shear its fleece,
Just at the edge of dark!"

The merry twinkling in his eyes,
Wrought by the secret whim,
Created not the least surprise,—
'T was natural to him.

The evening came; the men had gone;
Said Hal, "My time is come!

Now for the shears to act upon

One of the creatures dumb!

"Come, come," said he, "haste, haste, post haste! Was ever sheep so slow!

The shears upon the board are placed;

There, too, my lamb, you go!


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"There! stop that struggling! stop those screams! Now for the shining shears!"

But other tones rush'd on in teams,

Attacking both his ears!


Why, Hal! whatever have you got ?"
Cried voices strong and full;
He answering said, "Unhappy lot!

Well might he for misfortune mourn;
Well droop in trouble deep;

He had selected to be shorn,

A PIG, and not a sheep!

The moral of the tale, you 'll grant,
Is sensible and sound ;-

Never go seeking what you want
Where it can ne'er be found.


WHAT is a pound? No doubt a thing of value:
But does its value vary not with years?
It must, or something else does; for a pound
Would, long time since, have bought as much again

As it will now!
More? yea, without a doubt,
Some four or five times over at the least.

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