70

SELECT POETRY

The barn is still, the master’s gone
The thresher puts his jacket on,
While Dick upon the ladder tall,
Nails the dead kite to the wall.

Here comes shepherd Jack at last,

He has penned the sheep-cote fast ;
For ‘twas but two nights before,

A lamb was eaten on the moor:

His empty wallet Rover carries,

Nor for Jack, when near home, tarries ;
With lolling tongue he runs to try

If the horse-trough be not dry.

The milk is settled in the pans,
And supper messes in the cans
In the hovel carts are wheeled,
And both the colts are driven a-field
The snare for Mister Fox is set,
The leaven laid, the thatching wet,
And Bess is slunk away to talk
With Roger, in the holly-walk.
Kirke White.

MORNING OR EVENING HYMN.

Great God! how endless is thy love!

Thy gifts are every evening new,

And morning mercies from above

Gently distil, like early dew.

Thou spread’st the curtains of the night,

Great guardian of my sleeping hours !