Dark, dark perchance the day Hath been with valour's fate; But he is on his homeward way From the Roncesvalles' Strait. 'There is dust upon his joyous brow, And the warhorse will not wake him now, And the strong man meet his fate, THE HOMES OF ENGLAND. HE stately homes of England, THE How beautiful they stand, Amidst their tall ancestral trees, O'er all the pleasant land! The deer across their greensward bound, And the swan glides past them with the sound The merry homes of England— What gladsome looks of household love Meet in the ruddy light! There woman's voice flows forth in song And lips move tunefully along The blessed homes of England, Is laid the holy quietness That breathes from Sabbath hours! Solemn, yet sweet, the church bells' chime The cottage homes of England! They are smiling o'er the silvery brooks, And fearless there the lowly sleep, The free fair homes of England! Where first the child's glad spirit loves A DIRGE. ALM on the bosom of thy God, CA Fair spirit, rest thee now! E'en while with ours thy footsteps trod His seal was on thy brow. Dust, to its narrow house beneath! Soul, to its place on high! They that have seen thy look in death No more may fear to die. THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD. HEY grew in beauty side by side, THEY They filled one home with glee! Their graves are severed far and wide, By mountain, stream, and sea. The same fond mother bent at night She had each folded flower in sight- One 'midst the forests of the west, The sea, the blue lone sea, hath one- One sleeps where southern vines are drest He wrapt his colours round his breast And one-o'er her the myrtle showers And parted thus they rest who played |