Th' sun wor settin,—red an gold,
Wi splendor paintin th' west,
An purplin tints throo th' valley roll'd,
As daan he sank to rest.
Yet dayleet lingered looath to leeav
A world soa sweet an fair,
Wol silent burds a pathway cleave,
Throo th' still an slumb'rin air.
Aw stroll'd along a country rooad,
Hedged in wi thorn an vine;
Which wild flower scents an shadows broad,
Converted to a shrine.
As twileet's deeper curtains fell
Aw sat mi daan an sighed;
Mi thowts went back to th' time when Nell,
Had rambled bi mi side.
Aw seemed to hear her voice agean,
Soft whisperin i' mi ear,
Recallin things 'at once had been,
When th' futur all wor clear.
When love,—pure, honest, youthful love
Had left us nowt to crave;
An fancies full ov bliss we wove;—
Alas! Nell's in her grave.
Oh, Nell! I' that fair hooam ov thine,
Whear all is breet an pure,—-
Say,—is ther room for love like mine?
Can earthborn love endure?
Do angels' hearts past vows renew,
To mortals here who dwell?
It must be soa;—if my heart's true,
Aw cannot daat thee, Nell.
It's weel we cannot see beyond
That curtain Deeath lets fall;
Lest cheerin hooaps, an longins fond,
Should be denied us all.
Better to live i' hooap nor fear,—
'Tis Mercy plan'd it soa;
For if my Nelly isn't thear,
Aw shouldn't care to goa.
Bide thi Time.
Bide thi time! it's sure to come,
Tho' it may seem tardy,—
Thine's a better fate nor some:
If tha's but a humble home,
Yet thart strong an hardy;
Then cheer up an ne'er repine,
Be content, an bide thi time.
Bide thi time! if fortun's blind,
Rail not at her givin;
If tha thinks shoo's ovver kind
To thi neighbor, nivver mind,
If tha gets a livin;
Woll thi life is in its prime,
Be content, an bide thi time.
Bide thi time! for ther's a endin
To a loin, haivver long:
Things at th' warst mun start o' mendin;
Ther's noa wind but what's befriendin
One or other, tho' its strong:
Remember, poverty's noa crime—
Be content, an bide thi time.
Bide thi time! tho none are near thee
To stretch out a helpin hand;
Let noa darken'd prospect fear thee,
Ther's a promise yet should cheer thee
As tha nears a breeter land:
Tho thi rooad is hard to climb,
Be content, an bide thi time.