“Eileen, achora, I hear some one tapping." "T is the ivy, dear mother, against the glass flapping."

"Eileen, I surely hear somebody sighing." "T is the sound, mother dear, of the summer wind dying."

Merrily, cheerily, noisily whirring,

Swings the wheel, spins the reel, while the foot's stirring;

Sprightly, and lightly, and airily ringing,

Thrills the sweet voice of the young maiden singing.

"What's that noise that I hear at the window, I wonder?"

"T is the little birds chirping the holly-bush under." "What makes you be shoving and moving your stool on,

And singing all wrong that old song of 'The

Under the maple-tree
Deep though the shadow be,
Plain enough they can see,

Bright eyes has Somebody.

No one sits up to wait,

Though she is out so late, All know she's at the gate, Talking with Somebody.

ginning.

The sun is gone down, but the full harvest moon Shines sweetly and cool on the dew-whitened valley;

While all the air rings with the soft, loving things

Each little bird sings in the green shaded alley."

With a blush and a smile Kitty rose up the while, Her eye in the glass, as she bound her hair, glancing;

"T is hard to refuse when a young lover sues, So she could n't but choose to go off to the dancing.

And now on the green the glad groups are seen, Each gay-hearted lad with the lass of his

choosing;

And Pat, without fail, leads out sweet Kitty Neil,

Somehow, when he asked, she ne'er thought of refusing.

Now Felix Magee put his pipes to his knee,

And with flourish so free sets each couple in motion:

With a cheer and a bound the lads patter the ground;

The maids move around just like swans on the

ocean.

Cheeks bright as the rose, feet light as the doe's, Now coyly retiring, now boldly advancing: Search the world all around, from the sky to the

ground,

No such sight can be found as an Irish lass dancing!

ING YOUNG CHARMS.

BELIEVE me, if all those endearing young charms,

Which I gaze on so fondly to-day, Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet in my

arms,

Like fairy-gifts fading away, Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou art,

Let thy loveliness fade as it will,
And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart
Would entwine itself verdantly still.

It is not while beauty and youth are thine own,
And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear,
That the fervor and faith of a soul may be known.

To which time will but make thee more dear! No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets, But as truly loves on to the close,

As the sunflower turns to her god when he sets The same look which she turned when he rose ! THOMAS MOORE.

THE SLEEPING BEAUTY.
FROM "THE DAY DREAM.'

YEAR after year unto her feet,
She lying on her couch alone,
Across the purple coverlet,

The maiden's jet-black hair has grown ; On either side her tranced form

Forth streaming from a braid of pearl ; The slumberous light is rich and warm, And moves not on the rounded curl.

The silk star-broidered coverlid

Unto her limbs itself doth mould, Languidly ever; and amid

Her full black ringlets, downward rolled,

Glows forth each softly shadowed arm,
With bracelets of the diamond bright.
Her constant beauty doth inform
Stillness with love, and day with light.

She sleeps her breathings are not heard
In palace chambers far apart.
The fragrant tresses are not stirred

That lie upon her charmed heart.
She sleeps; on either hand upswells
The gold-fringed pillow lightly prest :
She sleeps, nor dreams, but ever dwells
A perfect form in perfect rest.

THE REVIVAL.

A touch, a kiss! the charm was snapt. There rose a noise of striking clocks, And feet that ran, and doors that clapt, And barking dogs, and crowing cocks; A fuller light illumined all,

A breeze through all the garden swept, A sudden hubbub shook the hall,

And sixty feet the fountain leapt.

The hedge broke in, the banner blew,

The butler drank, the steward scrawled, The fire shot up, the martin flew,

The parrot screamed, the peacock squalled, The maid and page renewed their strife,

The palace banged, and buzzed and clackt, And all the long-pent stream of life Dashed downward in a cataract.

At last with these the king awoke,

And in his chair himself upreared,

And yawned, and rubbed his face, and spoke, "By holy rood, a royal beard!

How say you? we have slept, my lords.
My beard has grown into my lap."
The barons swore, with many words,
"T was but an after-dinner's nap.
"Pardy," returned the king, but still
My joints are something stiff or so.
My lord, and shall we pass the bill
I mentioned half an hour ago?"
The chancellor, sedate and vain,

In courteous words returned reply: But dallied with his golden chain, And, smiling, put the question by.

THE DEPARTURE.

And on her lover's arm she leant,

And round her waist she felt it fold; And far across the hills they went In that new world which is the old.