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SELECT POETRY

You yet may spy the fawn at play,
The hare upon the green ;

But the sweet face of Lucy Gray
Will never more be seen.

* « To-night will be a stormy night,

You to the town must go;
And take a lantern, child, to light
Your mother through the snow.”

« That, father, I will gladly do;
’Tis scarcely afternoon—
The minster! clock has just struck two,
And yonder is the moon.”
At this the father raised his hook,
And snapped a faggot band;

He plied his work, and Lacy took

The lantern in her hand.

Not blither is the mountain roe;
With many a wanton stroke

Her feet disperse the powdery snow,
That rises up like smoke.

The storm came on before its time;
She wandered up and down,

And many a hill did Lucy climb,
But never reached the town.

The wretched parents all that night
Went shouting far and wide ;

But there was neither sound nor sight
To serve them for a guide.

1 Minster—cathedral church.