I LOVE MY JEAN

So they all three fell to quarreling

The white, and the black, and the gold, And two of the bugs got under the rugs, And one was out in the cold!

So he that was left in the basket,
Without a crumb to chew,

Or a thread to wrap himself withal,
When the wind across him blew,
Pulled one of the rugs from one of the bugs,
And so the quarrel grew!

So there was war in the basket.
Ah! pity 'tis, 'tis true!

But he that was frozen and starved

A strength from his weakness drew,
And pulled the rugs from both of the bugs,
And killed and ate them, too!

Now, when bugs live in a basket,
Tho' more than it well can hold,
It seems to me they had better agree,
The white, the black, and the gold,
And share what comes of beds and crumbs,
And leave no bug in the cold!

225

ALICE CARY.

I LOVE MY JEAN

OF a' the airts the wind can blaw,
I dearly like the west,

For there the bonnie lassie lives,

The lassie I lo'e best;

SHE stood breast-high amid the corn,
Clasp'd by the golden light of morn,
Like the sweetheart of the sun,
Who many a glowing kiss had won.

On her cheek an autumn flush,
Deeply ripened; such a blush
In the midst of brown was born,
Like red poppies grown with corn.

Round her eyes her tresses fell,
Which were blackest none could tell,
But long lashes veiled a light
That had else been all too bright.

THREE years she grew in sun and shower;
Then Nature said, "A lovelier flower

On earth was never sown;
This Child I to myself will take;

She shall be mine, and I will make

A lady of my own.

"Myself will to my darling be

Both law and impulse: and with me

The girl, in rock, and plain,

In earth and heaven, in glade and power,
Shall feel an overseeing power

To kindle or restrain.

"She shall be sportive as the fawn
That wild with glee across the lawn

Or up the mountain springs;

THE EDUCATION OF NATURE

And hers shall be the breathing balm,
And hers the silence and the calm
Of mute insensate things.

"The floating clouds their state shall lend To her; for her the willow bend;

Nor shall she fail to see

E'en in the motions of the storm,

Grace that shall mold the maiden's form

By silent sympathy.

"The stars of midnight shall be dear

To her; and she shall lean her ear

In many a secret place

Where rivulets dance their wayward round,

And beauty born of murmuring sound
Shall pass into her face.

"And vital feelings of delight
Shall rear her form to stately height,
Her virgin bosom swell;
Such thoughts to Lucy I will give
While she and I together live

Here in this happy dell."

Thus Nature spake

The work was done

How soon my Lucy's race was run!

She died, and left to me

This heath, this calm and quiet scene;

The memory of what has been,

And never more will be.

229