But the grave-yard lies between, Mary,
And my step might break your rest,
Where I've laid you, darling, down to sleep,
With your baby on your breast.

I'm very lonely now, Mary,

For the poor make no new friends;

But, oh, they love the better

The few our Father sends.

THE BONNIE ROWAN BUSH.

And you were all I had, Mary,
My blessing and my pride;

There's nothing left to care for now,

Since my poor Mary died.

I'm bidding you a long farewell,

My Mary kind and true,

But I'll not forget you, darling,

In the land I'm going to.

They say there's bread and work for all,

And the sun shines always there,

But I'll not forget old Ireland,

Were it fifty times less fair.

THE BONNIE ROWAN BUSH.

THE bonnie rowan bush

In yon lane glen,

Where the burnie clear doth gush

In yon lane glen;

My head is white and auld,

An' my bluid is thin an' cauld;

But I love the bonnie rowan bush

In yon lane glen.

My Jeannie first I met

In yon lane glen,

When the grass wi' dew was wet

In yon lane glen;

The moon was shining sweet,

An' our hearts wi' love did beat,

By the bonnie, bonnie rowan bush
In yon lane glen.

Lady Dufferin.

SHE moved upon this earth, a shape of brightness,

A power, that from its objects scarcely drew
One impulse of her being-in her lightness
Most like some radiant cloud of morning dew,

Which wanders through the waste air's pathless blue
To nourish some far desert; she did seem

Beside me, gathering beauty as she grew,

Like the bright shade of some immortal dream

Which walks, when tempest sleeps, the wave of life's dark stream.

As mine own shadow was this child to me,

A second self, far dearer and more fair,
Which clothed in undissolving radiancy

All those steep paths which languor and despair
Of human things had made so dark and bare,
But which I trod alone, nor, till bereft

Of friends, and overcome by lonely care,
Knew I what solace for that loss was left,

Though by a bitter wound my trusting heart was cleft.