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I BLEW, I blew, the trumpet loudly sounding;
I blew, I blew, the heart within me bounding;
The world was fresh and fair, yet dark with wrong,
And men stood forth to conquer at the song
I blew, I blew, I blew.

The field is won; the minstrels loud are crying,
And all the world is peace; and I am dying;
Yet this forgotten life was not in vain!

Enough, if I alone recall the strain

I blew, I blew, I blew. THOMAS WENTWORTH HIGGINSON.

-From "Such as they Are."

GOD BLESS US ALL.

God bless us all! With Tiny Tim,
'Tis thus we finish prayer and hymn,
While cheerily from lip to lip
The Christmas wishes gaily trip;

God bless us all, the circle round,
Wherever are our dear ones found;
At home, abroad, please God, we say,
God bless His own on Christmas Day.

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God bless the golden heads a-row
Where ruddy hearth flames leap and glow;
God bless the baby hands that clasp;
Heart fibers in their clinging grasp,
God bless the youth with eager gaze;
God bless the sage of lengthened days;
At home, abroad, please God, we cry,
God guard His own, 'neath any sky!

God ease the weary ones who bear
A cumbering weight of grief and care;
God give the wage no ill can spoil,
The honest loaf for honest toil;

We sound the heart-felt prayer and hymn,
And breathe "Amen," with Tiny Tim,
As reverently, please God, we say,
God bless us all on Chrstmas day.

MARGARAT E. Sangster.

-From "On the Road Home,"

-)(NOTES.

CARY, PHOEBE. "A Woman's Conclusion," oneof Phoebe Cary's best poems, may be found in THE MAGAZINE OF POETRY, Vol. I. No. 4, page 476.

DEVERE. A study of the poems of Aubrey Thomas DeVere, son of Aubrey DeVere, accompanied by portrait, appeared in the first volume of THE MAGAZINE OF POETRY. The volumes used in this study were sent to the editor through the courtesy of Mr. DeVere.

DICKINSON, EMILY. "Success" was published in "A Masque of Poets," at the request of "H. H.," the author's fellow-townswoman and friend.

DICKINSON, ELIZABETH LOWE. "In His Name" was written for the society of the King's Daughters.

"ANNIE LAURIE." Mr. Chambers tells us that this song was written by a Mr. Douglass, who paid court to Annie, one of the daughters of Sir Robert Laurie. He was unsuccessful in his suit, as she married a Mr. Ferguson; but he immortalized her name in the vain attempt to engross her affection. The ordinary modern version of the song is no improvement on the original, which may be found in Alexander Whitelaw's excellent "Book of Scottish Song," published in 1875.

J. C. Gavin writes in the Chicago Herald: "I

was raised on the next farm to James Laurie, Annie Laurie's father. I was personally acquainted with both Annie and her father, and also the author of the song. Knowing these facts, I have been requested by my friends to give the public the benefit of my knowledge, which I consented to do. Annie Laurie was born in 1817, and was about seventeen years old when the incident occurred which gave rise to the song bearing her name. James Laurie, Annie's father, was a farmer who lived on and owned a very large farm called Tharaglestown," in Dumfriesshire, Scotland. He hired a great deal of help, and among those he employed a man by the name of Wallace to act as foreman, and while in his employ Mr. Wallace fell in love with Annie, which fact her father learned, and forthwith discharged him. He went to his home, which was in Maxwelton, and was taken sick the very night he reached there, and the next morning, when Annie Laurie heard of it, she came to his bedside and waited on him until he died, and on his death-bed he composed the song."

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As the original version was published in C. K. Sharpe's "Ballad Book" in 1824, as "an old song," Mr. Gavin's statements are not correct. A modern version of the song is herewith given.

MAXWELTON braes are bonnie

Where early fa's the dew,

And it's there that Annie Laurie
Gie'd me her promise true,
Gie'd me her promise true,
Which ne'er forgot will be;
And for bonnie Annie Laurie
I'd lay me doune and dee.
Her brow is like the snaw-drift;
Her throat is like the swan;
Her face it is the fairest

That e'er the sun shone on,
That e'er the sun shone on,
And dark blue is her ee:
And for bonnie Annie Laurie
I'd lay me doune and dee.

Like dew on the gowan lying

Is the fa' o' her fairy feet;

And like the winds in summer sighing,
Her voice is low and sweet,
Her voice is low and sweet,

And she's a' the world to me;
And for bonnie Annie Laurie
I'd lay me doune and dee.

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CARY, ALICE & PHOEBE. Poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary, edited by Mary Clemmer Ames. New York: Hurd & Houghton, 1873. 12m0, pp. 7 and 306.

CARY, PHOEBE. Poems of Faith, Hope and Love. New York: Hurd & Houghton, 1868. 16m0, pp. 5 and 249.

RYAN, MARAH ELLIS. Miscellaneous poems. GOULD, ELIZABETH PORter. Stray Pebbles from the Shores of Thought. Boston: T. O. Metcalf & Co., 1892. 18mo, pp. 7 and 220.

RILEY, JAMES. Poems. Boston: T. B. Noonan & Co., 1888. 12m0, pp. 8 and 119. IBID. Miscellaneous poems.

DEVERE, SIR AUBREY. Julian the Apostate, and The Duke of Mercia. London: Basil M. Pickering, 1858. 16m0, pp. 20 and 343.

IBID. Mary Tudor. New edition. London: George Bell & Sons, 1884. 16m0, pp. 43 and 330.

IBID. Sonnets. London: Basil M. Pickering, 1875. 16m0, pp. 9 and 104.

GIBSON, R. E. LEE. Early poems. St. Louis: Commercial Printing Co., 1883. 12mo, pp. 6 and

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THE MAGAZINE OF POETRY.

VOL. VI.

NATHANIEL P. WILLIS.

NATHAN

[ATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS was born in Portland, Me., January 20th, 1806. His father was the venerable Nathaniel Willis, who in 1816 founded the Boston Recorder, the first religious newspaper ever published. Young Willis received an excellent preparatory education in the Boston Latin School, and then entered Yale College, where he was graduated in 1827. Previously he had written and published anonymously some poems of great merit, chiefly of a religious character, and won a prize of fifty dollars, at that time a very liberal reward. Soon after leaving college Mr. Willis collected and published his poems in a volume which attracted much attention. His tastes and talents induced him to devote himself to literature as a pursuit, and soon after he was graduated he assumed the editorship of the "Legendary," a series of volumes of tales published by S. G. Goodrich. He next established, in Boston, the American Monthly Magazine. At the expiration of ten years the magazine was merged into the New York Mirror, the most flourishing literary journal of the day. Mr. Willis then found opportunity to visit Europe, a long cherished desire, and in sparkling letters communicated to the Mirror his first impressions of the Old World. While residing in England in 1835 Mr. Willis married Mary Leighton Stace, a daughter of Commissary-General William Stace, commander of the Royal Arsenal at Woolwich. Returning to this country, he purchased a small farm in the valley of the Susquehanna, where he built a pretty cottage and hoped to pass the rest of his days in rural and literary employment. His "Letters from Under a Bridge," written from "Glenmary," in 1838, contained some of the most simply beautiful and truthful pictures of American country life ever penned. But trouble came to the inmates of "Glenmary." Mr. Willis's publishers failed; the dreamer had to forsake the quiet vale of the Susquehanna and plunge once more into the battle of life. He engaged actively in newspaper life

No. 3.

and visited Europe a second time. It was during that visit he published a volume of his poetry and prose, under the title of "Loiterings of Travel," and two plays, "Bianca Visconti" and "Tortesa the Usurer." Upon his return to America it was obvious his health was failing. Intense application, together with the shock occasioned by the death of his wife, completely prostrated him. He again went abroad for a brief stay, during which he was attacked by brain-fever. When sufficiently restored to health, he returned to this country and helped to establish the Home Journal, a literary weekly, which was very successful from the outset. In 1846 Mr. Willis married Cornelia, only daughter of Hon. Joseph Grinnell, of New Bedford, Mass. Their residence from that time till his death, which occurred on the 20th of January, 1867, was a charming estate on the banks of the Hudson. As a poet Nathaniel P. Willis has high rank, and all his work claims remembrance. I. R. W.

THE LEPER.

"ROOM for the leper! Room! And, as he came,
The cry passed on: "Room for the leper! Room!"
Sunrise was slanting on the city gates
Rosy and beautiful, and from the hills
The early risen poor were coming in
Duly and cheerfully to their toil, and up
Rose the sharp hammer's clink and the far hum
Of moving wheels and multitudes astir,
And all that in a city murmur swells,
Unheard but by the watcher's weary ear
Aching with night's dull silence, or the sick
Hailing the welcome light and sounds that chase
The death-like image from the dark away.
"Room for the leper!" And aside they stood,
Matron and child, and pitiless manhood—all
Who met him on his way, and let him pass.
And onward through the open gate he came,
A leper with the ashes on his brow,
Sackcloth about his loins, and on his lip

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