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THE SANDS OF DEE.
4. THE SANDS OF DEE.
“O, MARY, go and cail the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home
And all alone went she.
The western tide crept up along the sand,
And o'er and o'er the sand,
And round and round the sand,
As far as eye could see.
And never home came she.
“Oh! is it weed, or fish, or floating hair
A tress of golden hair,
A drowned maiden's hair,
Above the nets at sea ?
Among the stakes on Dee.”
They rowed her in across the rolling foam,
The cruel, crawling foam,
The cruel, hungry foam,
To her grave beside the sea : But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home, Across the sands of Dee.
5. THE MORNING-GLORY.
We wreathed about our darling's head the morning-glory bright,
So always from that happy time we called her by their name,
But not so beautiful they rear their airy cups of blue,
And not so close their tendrils fine round their supports are thrown, As those dear arms, whose outstretch'd plea clasped all hearts
to her own.
We used to think how she had come, even as comes the flower,
We never could have thought, O God, that she must wither up,
The morning-glory's blossoming will soon be coming round,
0, earth, in vain our aching eyes stretch over thy green plain!
MARIA W. LOWELL,
A WIDOW mother had a lad,
Now sixteen years was he;
But he must go to sea.
Upon both sea and land ;
And lives are in his hand."
So, with many thoughts of waves and rocks,
And as he took the key,
You'll often think of me.”
To comfort her at home were left
Two daughters and a son:
About her sailor one.
With William's writing on;
From some far place at sea ;
THE SAILOR AND HIS MOTHER.
Sometimes, a letter money bore-
To help the family ;
With his mother dear to be :
She had waited patiently;
Since first you went to sea !"
Now his brother James, the carpenter,
Was rising by degrees,
With little families
was she ; Her accent foreign, dark her face ; She had a woman's truth and grace,
And loved him tenderly. And he kiss'd her, and call'd her “ Dearest life !" And said, “ Mother, she has shared with me In many perils of the sea."
The pitying mother hears a tale
Of dangers on the sea;
How nearly drown'd was he.
Your face once more to see.”
THE SAILOR AND HIS MOTHER.
The widow now was growing grey
Warm-hearted still was she ;
How good a son was he.
head Soon in its rest will be."
And sickness came, and death drew near;
Saying, “ William, give it me.
kiss When first you went to sea.
Soon William stood by his mother's grave,
His breast heaved like the sea ;
Back to his memory.
Then sadly home to his wife he went,
With a better mother blest !"
“It is true, it is true, I know it is ; But, William, dearest, think of this She's quietly at rest."