Ah, though her mirth and jollities
She puts aside,
The silent laughter of her eyes
She cannot hide.
S. R. KENNEDY. Yale Record.
~Wealth.~
I like pretty maids flushed with joy,
With glad hair blowing free.
They smile right kind on many a boy,
But only one on me.
But I have a penny, a fiddle, and Joan,
And my sweet Joan has me.
Meadow and flock, the wise folk said,
It never were right to miss,
But my maid Joan has a kirtle red
And a merry mouth to kiss.
And I can fiddle and Joan can sing,
And what were better than this?
The young men talk of getting and gold,
And lands far over the sea.
But I and my fiddle will never grow old,
And this is the life for me.
I have a penny, my fiddle, and Joan,
And my sweet Joan has me.
ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH. Smith College Monthly.
~Jamie's Word wi' the Sea.~
(A-WAITIN' FER JINNIE.)
Ye'll no fret ye mair the noo,
Wull ye, sea?
Like ye've dune the winter through,
Roarin' at the sands and me.