The parson preached a sermon,
And prayed and preached again—
But she had gone to WILLIE,

Across the Spanish Main!

AH! fine it was that April time, when gentle winds

were blowing,

To hunt for pale arbutus-blooms that hide beneath the

leaves;

To hear the slanting rain come down, and see the clover

growing;

And watch the airy swallows as they darted round the eaves !

II.

You wonder why I dream to-night of clover that was

growing

So many years ago, my wife, when we were in our prime; For, hark! the wind is in the flue, and JOHNNY says 'tis

snowing,

And through the storm the clanging bells ring in the Christmas time.

III.

I cannot tell, but something sweet about my heart is cling

ing

A vision and a memory-'tis little that I mind

The weary wintry weather, for I hear the robins singing, And the petals of the apple-blooms are ruffled in the wind!

IV.

It was a sunny morn in May, and in the fragrant meadow
I lay, and dreamed of one fair face, as fair and fresh as

spring:

Would KATHIE MORRIS love me?-then in sunshine and

in shadow

I built up lofty castles on a golden wedding-ring!

V.

Oh, sweet it was to dream of her, the soldier's only daughter,

The pretty pious Puritan, that flirted so with WILL;
The music of her winsome mouth was like the laughing

water

That broke in silvery syllables by Farmer PHILIP's mill.

VI.

And WILL had gone away to sea; he did not leave her

grieving;

Her bonny heart was not for him, so reckless and so vain; And WILL turned out a buccaneer, and hanged was he for

thieving,

And scuttling helpless ships that sailed across the Spanish Main.

VII.

And I had come to grief for her, the scornful village

beauty,

For, oh! she had a witty tongue, could cut you like a

knife;

She scorned me with her haughty eyes, and I, in bounden

duty,

Did love her-loved her more for that, and wearied of my

VIII.

And yet 'twas sweet to dream of her, to think her wavy

tresses

Might rest some happy, happy day, like sunshine, on my

cheek;

The idle winds that fanned my brow I dreamed were her

caresses,

And in the robin's twitterings I heard my sweetheart speak.

IX.

And as I lay and thought of her, her fairy face adorning With lover's fancies, treasuring the slightest word she'd said, 'Twas KATHIE broke upon me like a blushing summer

morning,

And a half-blown rosy clover reddened underneath her tread!

X.

Then I glanced up at KATHIE, and her eyes were full of laughter:

“O Kathie, Kathie Morris, I am lying at your feet; Bend above me, say you love me, that you'll love me ever

after,

Or let me lie and die here, in the fragrant meadowsweet!"

XI.

And then I turned my face away, and trembled at my

daring,

For wildly, wildly had I spoke, with flashing cheek and eye; And there was silence: I looked up, all pallid and despair

ing,

For fear she'd take me at my word, and leave me there to

die.

XII.

The modest lashes of her eyes upon her cheeks were droop

ing,

Her merciless white fingers tore a blushing bud apart;

Then, quick as lightning, KATHIE came, and kneeling half and stooping,

She hid her bonny, bonny face against my beating heart.

XIII.

Oh, nestle, nestle, nestle there! the heart would give thee greeting;

Lie thou there, all trustfully, in trouble and in pain;

This breast shall shield thee from the storm, and bear its bitter beating

These arms shall hold thee tenderly in sunshine and in rain!

XIV.

Old sexton! set your chimes in tune, and let there be no snarling;

Ring out a joyous wedding-hymn to all the listening air! And, girls, strew roses as she comes, the scornful, browneyed darling

A princess, by the wavy gold and glistening of her hair!

XV.

Hark! hear the bells. The Christmas bells? Oh, no; who set them ringing?

I think I hear our bridal-bells, and I with joy am blind;
I smell the clover in the fields, I hear the robins singing,
And the petals of the apple-blooms are ruffled in the

XVI.

Ah! KATHIE, you've been true to me in fair and cloudy weather;

Our Father has been good to us when we've been sorciy

tried:

I pray to Him, when we must die, that we may die together,

And slumber softly underneath the clover, side by side.

FROM the Desert I come to thee

On a stallion shod with fire;

And the winds are left behind

In the speed of my desire!

Under thy window I stand,

And the midnight hears my cry:

I love thee, I love but thee,
With a love that shall not die

Till the sun grows cold

And the stars are old,

And the leaves of the Judgment
Book unfold!

Look from thy window and see

My passion and my pain;

I lie on the sands below,
And I faint in thy disdain.