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What has poor Ireland done, mother, -
What has poor Ireland done,
That the world looks on, and sees us starve,
Perishing one by one?

Do the men of England care not, mother, -
The great men and the high,
For the suffering sons of Erin's isle,

Whether they live or die?

There is many a brave heart here, mother,
Dying of want and cold,

While only across the Channel, mother,
Are many that roll in gold;

There are rich and proud men there, mother,
With wondrous wealth to view,

And the bread they fling to their dogs to-night
Would give life to me and you.

Come nearer to my side, mother,
Come nearer to my side,
And hold me fondly, as you held

My father when he died;
Quick, for I cannot see you, mother,

My breath is almost gone;
Mother! dear mother! ere I die,
Give me three grains of corn.

AMELIA BLANDFORD EDWARDS.

LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER.

A CHIEFTAIN, to the Highlands bound,
Cries," Boatman, do not tarry!
And I'll give thee a silver pound,
To row us o'er the ferry."

"Now who be ye, would cross Lochgyle,
This dark and stormy water?"
"O, I'm the chief of Ulva's isle,

And this Lord Ullin's daughter. "And fast before her father's men Three days we've fled together, For should he find us in the glen,

My blood would stain the heather. "His horsemen hard behind us ride; Should they our steps discover, Then who will cheer my bonny bride When they have slain her lover?" Out spoke the hardy Highland wight, "I'll go, my chief, I'm ready: It is not for your silver bright;

But for your winsome lady:

"And by my word! the bonny bird In danger shall not tarry :

So, though the waves are raging white, I'll row you o'er the ferry."

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You bumpkins! who stare at your brother con- But many a house an' home was open then to

veyed,

Behold what respect to a cloddy is paid!

me;

Many a han'some offer I had from likely men,

And be joyful to think, when by death you 're And nobody ever hinted that I was a burden

laid low,

You've a chance to the grave like a gemman to

go!

Rattle his bones over the stones!

He's only a pauper whom nobody owns!

But a truce to this strain; for my soul it is sad,
To think that a heart in humanity clad
Should make, like the brute, such a desolate end,
And depart from the light without leaving a
friend!

Bear soft his bones over the stones!
Though a pauper, he's one whom his Maker
yet owns!

THOMAS Noel.

then.

And when to John I was married, sure he was

good and smart,

But he and all the neighbors would own I done my part;

For life was all before me, an' I was young an

strong,

And I worked the best that I could in tryin' to get along.

And so we worked together and life was hard, but gay,

With now and then a baby for to cheer us on our way;

Till we had half a dozen, an' all growed clean an' neat,

OVER THE HILL TO THE POOR-HOUSE. | An' went to school like others, an' had enough

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But this is a sort of journey I never thought I'd have died for my daughters, I'd have died

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And God he made that rule of love; but when I went to live with Susan, but Susan's house was we 're old and gray,

small,

I've noticed it sometimes somehow fails to work And she was always a-hintin' how snug it was

the other way.

Strange, another thing: when our boys an' girls was grown,

And when, exceptin' Charley, they'd left us

there alone;

for us all ;

And what with her husband's sisters, and what with child'rn three,

'T was easy to discover that there was n't room for me.

When John he nearer an' nearer come, an' dearer An' then I went to Thomas, the oldest son I've seemed to be, got, The Lord of Hosts he come one day an' took him For Thomas's buildings 'd cover the half of an away from me.

Still I was bound to struggle, an' never to cringe or fall

Still I worked for Charley, for Charley was now my all;

acre lot;

But

all the child'rn was on me- I could n't stand their sauce

And Thomas said I need n't think I was comin' there to boss.

And Charley was pretty good to me, with scarce An' then I wrote to Rebecca, my girl who lives

a word or frown,

out West,

Till at last he went a-courtin', and brought a wife And to Isaac, not far from her some twenty

from town.

miles at best;

And

She was somewhat dressy, an' had n't a pleasant smile

one of 'em said 't was too warm there for any one so old,

And

She was quite conceity, and carried a heap o'

t'other had an opinion the climate was too cold.

style;

But if ever I tried to be friends, I did with her, So they have shirked and slighted me, an' shifted

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But she was hard and proud, an' I could n't make | So they have well-nigh soured me, an' wore my

it go.

She had an edication, an' that was good for her;

But when she twitted me on mine, 't was carryin' things too fur;

But

old heart out;

still I've borne up pretty well, an' was n't much put down,

Till Charley went to the poor-master, an' put me on the town.

An' I told her once, 'fore company (an' it almost Over the hill to the poor-house

made her sick),

dear, good by!

- my child'rn That I never swallowed a grammar, or 'et a 'rith- Many a night I've watched you when only God metic.

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