which appear to be, either in idea or language, beyond the capacity of one who has gone through the classes of a wellinstructed National School: nor has anything been rejected merely because it might be judged, in point of refinement or beauty, to rise above the common level of persons so educated.

If the effect of this publication be but to introduce one purer thought or one higher aspiration into a home weary with toil or dark with care, the object of the compiler will have been answered, and the kindness of those authors and publishers who have consented to this use of their works will have been as well rewarded as it is hereby gratefully acknowledged.

C. M. V.

INDEX OF FIRST LINES.

A baby was sleeping, its mother was weeping

A fair little girl sat under a tree

At the silence of twilight's contemplative hour

Behold her, single in the field.

At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears

Begone, thou fond presumptuous Elf

Christian life's no bank of roses

Come to the land of peace

Faintly as tolls the evening chime

Faintly flow, thou falling river

Fare thee well! the ship is ready

Farewell to the woodlands, farewell to the bowers

Far in a wild, unknown to public view.

Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea.

Full knee-deep lies the winter snow.

Good-bye, good-bye to summer

He walked with God, in holy joy

How dear to me the hour when daylight dies

How grand, oh sea, thou lonely sea.

I am a Pebble! and yield to none

260

62

I am monarch of all I survey

I dreamt I lay where flowers were springing

I fell into grief, and began to complain.

I have a son, a little son, a boy just five years old

I hear thee speak of the better land.

I like that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls

I'm sittin' on the stile, Mary

I remember, I remember

I say to thee, do thou repeat

I stood on the bridge at midnight

I stood upon the hills, when heaven's wide arch

I travelled among unknown men .

I thought to pass away before, and yet alive I am

If sorrow came not near us, and the lore

PAGE

12

50

153

292

149

124

229

264

310

ΙΟΙ

121

274

215

314

If you're waking call me early, call me early, mother dear.

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here.

Oh that those lips had language! Life has passed

One morning (raw it was and wet)

On Linden, when the sun was low

On the green banks of Shannon, when Sheelah was nigh
Our bugles sang truce-for the night cloud had lowered.
Pause not to dream of the future before us

159

69

147

235

92

226

36

248

232

16

213

86

88

82

237

Peace be around thee, wherever thou rov'st
She dwelt among the untrodden ways.
She was a phantom of delight.

Should sorrow o'er thy brow

Some murmur when their sky is clear

Somewhat back from the village street.
Stay near me-do not take thy flight

Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain
Tell me not, in mournful numbers

The boy stood on the burning deck

The cock is crowing .

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary

PAGE

71

215

203

255

308

104

155

26

98

142
223

95

The days are cold, the nights are long.

The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink

The gloomy night is gathering fast

The lazy mist hangs from the brow of the hill

212

The noon was shady, and soft airs

The old house by the lindens

The pine-apples in triple row

The poplars are felled, farewell to the shade

The post-boy drove with fierce career

The rose had been washed, just washed in a shower

The sailor sighs as sinks his native shore

The shades of night were falling fast

The smiling Spring comes in rejoicing

The stately homes of England

There came to the beach a poor exile of Erin
There dwelt a miller hale and bold

There is in souls a sympathy with sounds.

There is no flock, however watched and tended.
There is a Reaper, whose name is Death

The twilight is sad and cloudy.
The wintry west extends his blast
They grew in beauty, side by side
Think'st thou the steed that restless roves
This is the place. Stand still, my steed
Those evening bells! those evening bells
Thou cam'st not to thy place by accident
Thou lingering star, with less'ning ray.

195

55

51

3

109

15

ΙΟ

506

II

80

119

58

145

90

151

23

107

100

127

56

135

254

III

70

309

53

Tis the last rose of summer

To the sound of evening bells.

Twilight's soft dews steal o'er the village-green

Under a spreading chestnut-tree

Up to the throne of God is borne.

Up with me! up with me into the clouds

Voyager on life's troubled sea.

We are all here

We sat within the farm-house old

We scatter seeds with careless hand

We walked along, while bright and red

217

Weep not for broad lands lost

312

What hidest thou in thy treasure-caves and cells

140

What is that, Mother?-The lark, my child.

What way does the wind come? What way does he go?
"What, you are stepping westward?"

201

"Yea"

220

When Britain first at Heaven's command

I

Where art thou, my beloved son.

209

When the hours of Day are numbered.

113

When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye at hame

47

With Farmer Allan at the farm abode

283

With what a glory comes and goes the year

Ye Mariners of England

You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear. 265

125

84