To eye the comely milking-maid, Herself so fresh and creamy. "Good day to you!" at last I said; She turned her head to see me. "Good day!" she said with lifted head; Her eyes looked soft and dreamy. And all the while she milked and milked The grave cow heavy-laden: I've seen grand ladies, plumed and silked, But not a sweeter maiden; But not a sweeter, fresher maid Than this in homely cotton, Whose pleasant face and silky braid I have not yet forgotten. Seven springs have passed since then, as I Count with sober sorrow; Seven springs have come and passed me by, I've half a mind to shake myself And leave it done or undone; To run down by the early train, Whirl down with shriek and whistle, And spy the scarce-blown violet banks, Alas! one point in all my plan My serious thoughts demur to: Seven years have passed for maid and man, Seven years have passed for her too. Perhaps my rose is overblown, Not rosy or too rosy; Perhaps in farm-house of her own Some husband keeps her cosy, Where I should show a face unknown. Good-by, my wayside posy! CHRISTIANA GEORGIANA ROSSETTI. WOMEN AND CHILDREN. H! if no faces were beheld on earth But toiling manhood and repining age, No welcome eyes of innocence and mirth To look upon us kindly, who would wage FROM LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD. THE fields were covered over With colors as she went, Daisies, buttercups and clover Below her footsteps bent; Summer shed its shining store; She plucked them and caressed them, They had never seemed so sweet before To Red Riding Hood, the darling, She seems like an ideal love, A younger sister for the heart. Her hair is brown and bright; Never can the memory part With Red Riding Hood, the darling, Too long in the meadow staying, Did the little maiden stay. We, too, loiter 'mid life's flowers, A little while so glorious, So soon lost in darker hours. All love lingering on their way LETITIA E. LANDON. (Mrs. L. E. L. McLean.) THE HUSBANDMAN. EARTH, of man the bounteous mother, Feeds him still with corn and wine; He who best would aid a brother Noiseless, hidden, works beneath; Since his work on earth began. Bud and harvest, bloom and vintage, What the dream but vain rebelling, Wind and frost, and hour and season, Sow thy seed and reap in gladness: |