Gin reft frae friends, or crost in love, as whiles, nae: doubt, ye 've been,

Grief lies deep hidden in your heart, or tears flow frae

your een,

Believe it for the best, and trow there's good in store

for you,

For ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew.

In lang, lang days o' simmer, when the clear and clud less sky

Refuses ae wee drap o' rain to Nature parch'd and dry, The genial night wi' balmy breath gaurs verdure spring

anew,

An' ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew.

Sae, lest 'mid fortune's sunshine, we should feel ower proud an' hie,

An' in our pride forget to wipe the tear frae poor

tith's ee,

Some wee dark cluds o' sorrow come, we ken na

whence or hoo,

But ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew.

JAMES BALLANTINE, 1808—

CARELESS CONTENT.

I AM content, I do not care,
Wag as it will the world for me;
When' fuss and fret was all my fare,
It got no ground as I could see.
So when away my caring went,

I counted cost and was content.

With more of thanks and less of thought,
I strive to make my matters meet;
To seek what ancient sages sought,

Physic and food in sour and sweet:
To take what passes in good part,
And keep the hiccups from the heart.

With good and gentle-humour'd hearts,
I choose to chat where'er I come,
Whate'er the subject be that starts;
But if I get among the glum,
I hold my tongue to tell the truth,
And keep my breath to cool my broth.

For chance or change of peace or pain, For Fortune's favour or her frown, For lack or glut, for loss or gain,

I never dodge, nor up nor down; But swing what way the ship shall swim, Or tack about with equal trim.

I suit not where I shall not speed,
Nor trace the turn of every tide;
If simple sense will not succeed,
I make no bustling, but abide :
For shining wealth, or scaring woe,
I force no friend, I fear no foe.

Of ups and downs, of ins and outs,

Of they're i' the wrong, and we're i' the right, I shun the rancours and the routs ;

And wishing well to every wight,
Whatever turn the matter takes,
I deem it all but ducks and drakes.

With whom I feast I do not fawn,
Nor if the folks should flout me, faint;
If wonted welcome be withdrawn,

I cook no kind of a complaint:

With none disposed to disagree,
But like them best who best like me.

Not that I rate myself the rule

How all my betters should behave,
But fame shall find me no man's fool,
Nor to a set of men a slave:

I love a friendship free and frank,
And hate to hang upon a hank.

Fond of a true and trusty tie,

I never loose where'er I link ; Though if a business budges by, I talk thereon just as I think;

My word, my work, my heart, my hand,
Still on a side together stand.

If names or notions make a noise,
Whatever hap the question hath,
The point impartially I poise,

And read or write, but without wrath ;
For should I burn or break my brains,
Pray, who will pay me for my pains?

I love my neighbour as myself,

Myself like him too, by his leave; Nor to his pleasure, power, or pelf,

Came I to crouch, as I conceive: Dame Nature doubtless has design'd A man the monarch of his mind.

Now taste and try this temper, sirs,
Mood it and brood it in your breast;
Or if ye ween, for worldly stirs,

That man does right to mar his rest,
Let me be deft and debonair,

I am content, I do not care.

ANONYMOUS, (1600-1650.)

THE STREAM OF LIFE.

O SILVERY Streamlet of the fields,
That flowest full and free!
For thee the rains of spring return,
The summer dews for thee;
And when thy latest blossoms die
In autumn's chilly showers,
The winter fountains gush for thee,
Till May brings back the flowers.

O Stream of Life! the violet springs
But once beside thy bed;
But one brief summer, on thy path,
The dews of heaven are shed.
Thy parent fountains shrink away,
And close their crystal veins,

And where thy glittering current flow'd,
The dust alone remains.

-American.

W. C. BRYANT, 1798

MUTABILITY.

FULL many a glorious morning have I seen
Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye,
Kissing with golden face the meadows green,
Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy;