I SAW but once that lovely one, Nor need I see her twice to love; She broke upon me like the dawn, And o’er my soul her magic wove— Yea, forced the lion stern to own

WHEN first the maiden fair I eye… —This world is a world of grief al… A lily she held and a rose beside But I was doomed her lot to moan. The rose was gain’s and the lily w…

‘BEWARE! yon bird now in glee o… May drop into a snare:’ So sung we when a day of the past… away But not when Alf, was near.

My lad he is a Collier Lad, And a blithe, blithe soul is he, And when a holiday comes around, He’ll spend that day in glee; He’ll tell his tale o’er a pint o’…

AS I came down from Earsdon Town… A-lilting of a lay, Whom did I meet but she, the swee… The blue-eyed Lotty Hay. A crimson blush her cheek did flus…

‘QUEEN PEARL’S own equal’€”na… A fairer far am I,' May Dewdrop… As Sol at break of day Did kiss the sparkler on her grass… ‘None may my charms resist!’

LET England beware, ere for war… She incur not the mark of the beas… That she march not her power the… Of the blood-imbued wolf of the E… It might be her gain that State t…

SHE took the wood thro’ which she… But in the lake near which she wen… An image met, and swayed and swung… And three times with her image ble… The vision from that mirror fled,

AH dearest dear, what do I hear? I’ve hurt thy feelings! have I, d… Then let thy words be fiery swords… To punish me with pangs severest! Than hear thee sigh, I’d rather d…

IF Ellerton Willy be slighted by… Yet others as bonny will hark to h… Then why like a silly bit daffodow… Should I droop my head, droop, an… Chorus:—Then why should pine Will…

OUR revels now are ended, so good… And each unto our chamber let us h… And there lose ourselves in vision… Again has bid adieu unto the sky. So good-bye

‘SAY, whither goes my buxom maid All with the coal-black e’e?’ ‘Before I answer that,’ she said, ‘Give ear, and answer me. ’Pray, hast thou e’er thy counsel…

THE wind comes from the west to-n… So sweetly down the lane he blowet… Upon my lips, with pure delight, From head to foot my body gloweth. Where did the wind, the magic find

THE Hartley men are noble, and Ye’ll hear a tale of woe; I’ll tell the doom of the Hartley… The year of sixty-two. ’Twas on a Thursday morning, on

THE sun is in the western sky And thro’ the barley, she— Comes she, the apple of my eye, The rose-cheeked Rosa Rea. Away I slink the maid to meet,