THE NIGHT PIECE. HER eyes the glow-worme lend thee, Whose little eyes glow Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee. No Will-o'-th'-Wispe mislight thee, Not making stay, Since ghost there's none t' affright thee. Let not the darke thee cumber; What though the moon does slumber? The stars of the night Will lend thee their light, Like tapers cleare, without number. Then, Julia, let me woo thee, Thus, thus to come unto me; Thy silvery feet, My soule I'll pour into thee! ROBERT HERRICK. POOR lone Hannah, Sitting at the window, binding shoes! Sitting, stitching, in a mournful muse! Bright-eyed beauty once was she, Hannah's at the window, binding shoes. HANNAH BINDING SHOES. Not a neighbor Passing nod or answer will refuse "Is there from the fishers any news?" Night and morning Hannah's at the window, binding shoes. Fair young Hannah, Ben, the sun-burnt fisher, gayly woos; For a willing heart and hand he sues. Hannah leaves her window and her shoes. May is passing; 'Mid the apple-boughs a pigeon coos. Hannah shudders; For the mild southwester mischief brews. Outward bound, a schooner sped. Hannah's at the window, binding shoes. 'Tis November; Now no tear her wasted cheek bedews. Not a sail returning will she lose; THE LIVING LOST. Whispering, hoarsely, "Fishermen, Hannah's at the window, binding shoes. Twenty Winters Bleach and tear the ragged shore she views: Never one has brought her any news. Chase the white sails o'er the sea. Hannah's at the window, binding shoes. LUCY LARCOM. THE LIVING LOST. MATRON, the children of whose love, Each to his grave, in youth have passed, Bride, who dost wear the widow's veil Yet there are pangs of keener woe, |