111 II. Gideon Gray-poor Gideon Gray! He sits by the wintry fire, And watches the live coals in the grate With eyes that never tire. He sings a song to the chirruping flames, And balances to and fro All day long, like the tick o' the clock, There is no meaning in his mirth, His tenantless eyes express Nothing but ignorance of pain, And a stone-like happiness. III. Gideon Gray-poor Gideon Gray! No misery touches him; He hath no care; the shadow of grief Were light to a soul so dim. Oh! give us grief, 'tis better than this; Sorrow on Sorrow's head Ten times piled, were a lighter load Than a happiness so dread. Come, Sorrow, come! we'll bare our breasts To meet thy heaviest blow, Resigned-if Reason keep her seat To guide us as we go. fancy as I see The trailing willows kissing thee; As I behold the daisies pied, The harebells nodding at thy side; The sheep that feed upon thy brink, The birds that stoop to thy wave to drink; Thy blooms that tempt the bees to stray, And all the life that tracks thy way. Oh! give us grief, 'tis better than this; Sorrow on Sorrow's head Ten times piled, were a lighter load Than a happiness so dread. Come, Sorrow, come! we'll bare our breasts To meet thy heaviest blow, Resigned-if Reason keep her seat To guide us as we go. THE MOUNTAIN TORRENT. FAIR Streamlet, running Where violets grow, Under the elm-trees, Murmuring low; Rippling gently Amid the grass; I have a fancy, As I pass: I have a fancy as I see The trailing willows kissing thee; As I behold the daisies pied, The harebells nodding at thy side; The sheep that feed upon thy brink, The birds that stoop to thy wave to drink; Thy blooms that tempt the bees to stray, And all the life that tracks thy way. |