The wretched parents all that night
Went shouting far and wide;

But there was neither sound nor sight
To serve them for a guide.

At day-break on a hill they stood
That overlooked the moor;

And thence they saw the bridge of wood,
A furlong from their door.

They wept—and, turning homeward, cried, "In Heaven we all shall meet : "

-When in the snow the mother spied

The print of Lucy's feet.

Half breathless from the steep hill's edge They tracked the footmarks small;

And through the broken hawthorn-hedge, And by the long stone-wall;

And then an open field they crossed:
The marks were still the same;

They tracked them on, nor ever lost;
And to the Bridge they came.

They followed from the snowy bank
Those footmarks, one by one,
Into the middle of the plank;

And further there were none !

-Yet some maintain that to this day

She is a living child;

That you may see sweet Lucy Gray
Upon the lonesome wild.

O'er rough and smooth she trips along
And never looks behind;
And sings a solitary song

That whistles in the wind.

ANECDOTE FOR FATHERS,

SHOWING HOW THE PRACTICE OF LYING MAY BE TAUGHT.

I HAVE a boy of five years old;
His face is fair and fresh to see;

His limbs are cast in beauty's mould,
And dearly he loves me.

One morn we strolled on our dry walk,
Our quiet home all full in view,
And held such intermitted talk
As we are wont to do.

My thoughts on former pleasures ran;
I thought of Kilve's delightful shore,
Our pleasant home when Spring began,
A long, long year before.

A day it was when I could bear
Some fond regrets to entertain;
With so much happiness to spare,
I could not feel a pain.

The green earth echoed to the feet

Of lambs that bounded through the glade, From shade to sunshine, and as fleet

From sunshine back to shade.

Birds warbled round me-every trace
Of inward sadness had its charm;
66 Kilve," said I, "was a favoured place,
And so is Liswyn farm."

My Boy was by my side, so slim
And graceful in his rustic dress !
And, as we talked, I questioned him,
In very idleness.

"Now tell me, had you rather be,' I said, and took him by the arm,

"On Kilve's smooth shore, by the green sea, Or here at Liswyn farm?"

In careless mood he looked at me,
While still I held him by the arm,
And said, "At Kilve I'd rather be
Than here at Liswyn farm."

"Now, little Edward, say why so;
My little Edward, tell me why.'
"I cannot tell, I do not know."
'Why, this is strange,” said I;

66

For, here are woods, and green hills warm: There surely must some reason be

Why you would change sweet Liswyn farm For Kilve by the green sea.

At this, my Boy hung down his head,

He blushed with shame, nor made reply;

And five times to the child I said,

Why, Edward, tell me why?"

POEMS OF BALLAD FORM

B