Like melting snow upon some craggy hill,
Drop, drop, drop, drop,
Since summer’s pride is now a withered daffodil.
Ben Jonson, 1574–1637.
LINES.
“O Mary, go and call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
Across the sands o’ Dee;”
The western wind was wild and dark wi’ foam,