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HERE's a song for old Dobbin, whose temper and worth
Are too rare to be spur'd on the score of his birth.
He's a creature of trust, and what more should we heed !
'Tis deeds, and not blood, make the man and the steed.

He carried the master to barter his grain,
And ever return'd with him safely again :
There was merit in that, for deny it who may,
When the master could not, Dobbin could find his way.

The dairy-maid ventured her eggs on his back :
'Twas him, and him only, she'd trust with the pack.
The team-horses jolted, the roadster play'd pranks ;
So Dobbin alone had her faith and her thanks.

We fun-loving urchins would group by his side ;
We might fearlessly mount him, and daringly ride :
We might creep through his legs, we might plait his long

tail ;
But his temper and patience were ne'er known to fail..

We would brush his bright hide till 'twas free from a speck ;
We kiss'd his brown muzzle, and hugg'd his thick neck :
Oh! we prized him like life, and a heart-breaking sob
Ever burst when they threaten'd to sell our dear Dob.

He stood to the collar, and tugg’d up the hill,
With the pigs to the market, the grist to the mill;
With saddle or halter, in shaft or in trace,
He was stanch to his work, and content with his place.

When the hot sun was crowning the toil of the year,
He was sent to the reapers with ale and good cheer;
And none in the corn-field more welcome were seen
Than Dob and his well-laden panniers, I ween.

Oh! those days of pure bliss shall I ever forget,
When we deck'd out his head with the azure rosette ;
All frantic with joy to be off to the fair,
With Dobbin, good Dobbin, to carry us there?



(1.) JANUARY WIND. THE wind, wife, the wind ; how it blows, how it blows; It grips the latch, it shakes the house, it whistles, it screams,

it crows, It dashes on the window-pane, then rushes off with a cry, Ye scarce can hear your own loud voice, it clatters so loud

and high ; And far away upon the sea it floats with thunder call; The wind, wife; the wind, wife; the wind that did it all!

The wind, wife, the wind; how it blows, how it blows !
It changes, shifts, without a cause, it ceases, it comes and

goes ; And David ever was the same, wayward, and wild, and boldFor wilful lad will have his way, and the wind no hand can

hold; But, ah ! the wind, the changeful wind, was more in the

blame than he; The wind, wife ; the wind, wife, that blew him out to sea!

The wind, wife, the wind; now 'tis still, now 'tis still;
And as we sit I seem to feel the silence shiver and thrill.
'Twas thus the night he went away, and we sat in silence here,
We listen'd to our beating hearts, and all was weary and

drear; We long’d to hear the wind again, and to hold our David's

handThe wind, wife; the wind, wife, that blew him out from land!

The wind, wife, the wind; up again, up again!
It blew our David round the world, yet shriek'd at our

window-pane; And ever since that time, old wife, in rain, and in sun, and

in snow, Whether I work or weary here, I hear it whistle and blow. It moans around, it groans around, it wanders with scream

and cry The wind, wife; the wind, wife; may it blow him home to die !

(2.) APRIL RAIN. Showers, showers, nought but showers, and it wants a week

of May, Flowers, flowers, summer flowers, are hid in the green and

the gray; Green buds and gray shoots cover their sparkling gear, They stir beneath, they long to burst, for the May is so

near, so nearWhile I spin and I spin, and the fingers of the rain Fall patter, pitter, patter on the pane.

Showers, showers, silver showers, murmur and softly sing, Flowers, flowers, summer flowers, are swelling and hearkIt wants a week of May, when John and I will be one; The flowers will burst, the birds will sing, as we walk to


church in the sun; So patter goes my heart, in a kind of pleasant pain, To the patter, pitter, patter of the rain.

(3.) SUMMER Moon. Summer moon, O summer moon, across the west you fly! You gaze on half the earth at once with sweet and steadfast

eye. Summer moon, O summer moon, were I aloft with thee, I know that I could look upon my boy who sails at sea.

Summer moon, O summer moon, you throw your silver

showers Upon a glassy sea that lies round shores of fruits and flowers. The blue wave trembles on the shore with murmuring as

of bees, And the shadow of the ship lies dark near shade of orange


Summer moon, O summer moon, now wind and storm have

fled, Your light creeps through a cabin pane, and lights a flaxen

head : He tosses with his lips apart, lies smiling in your gleam, For underneath his folded lids you put a gentle dream.

Summer moon, O summer moon, his head is on his arm ; He stirs with balmy breath, and sees the moonlight on the

farm ; He stirs and breathes his mother's name; he smiles, and

sees once more The moon above, the fields below, the shadow at the door. Summer moon, O summer moon, across the lift you go; Far south you gaze and see my boy, where groves of

orange grow! Summer moon, O summer moon, you turn again to me, And seem to have the smile of him who sleeps upon the sea.


KING ALFRED went forth to the camp of the Dane,

And tuned his sweet harp for the foe;
He thought of his country with sorrow and pain,

And sigh'd for her glory laid low.
Then striking his hand o’er the answering chords,

Of love and its pleasures he sang,
Till the gathering crowd beat applause with their swords,

And their tents with the melody rang.

“ Come, sing us a song of the full-flowing bowl !”

Exclaim'd the proud foe, as he play'd ;
The minstrel, though sadness lay deep on his soul,

Look'd round with a smile, and obey'd :“Who drinks the deep draught shall be strong in the fight,

Who drains to the dregs is a king !”
Again they applauded :—“We'll pledge you to-night :-

'Tis thus that a minstrel should sing !”

Then, changing his theme, came the tune, like a wave :

“When haughty invaders defy, His fame shall be first on the roll of the brave

Who meets them, to conquer or die :

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