“My heart my throat come thrummin’ in, The dusk it struck my fancy; I couldn’t help a-comin’ in An’ speakin’ to ye, Nancy.” An’ then ’e sez—’e sez—O me! My feelins gits unruly— He’d liked me all along, you see; I know he loved me truly. An’ I wuz but an orphan, too, A-workin’ fer my livin’, Without a kith er kin I knew, An’ jest myself to give ’im. An’ when iz voice sunk soft away— A kind o’ tremblin’ in it— The words I tried so hard to say Kep’ chokin’ fer a minute. The lilock blossoms wuz in blow, So sweet, with dewdrops beaded; I handed ’im a bunch, an’ Joe No other answer needed. The year it passed, the war wuz come, The soldiers fast enrollin’; I heard the beatin’ of the drum, I thought like church-bell tollin’. I stood beside the lilock bush, The shadows round me lyin’, An’ all the evenin’ in a hush, Except the wind a-sighin’; An’ down the lane the whip-’oor-will So sad an’ mournful callin’— Somehow it wuz so dreadful still, The tears _would_ keep a-fallin’. An’ then _he_ come—so brave an’ strong, An’ yet ’is lips a-quiv’rin’; I guesst ’is errant all along, An’ couldn’t help a-shiv’rin’. O friend, the year went round—went round— But this’ll tell you better; This withered lilock some one found, An’ sent me in a letter. Ah, well! there’s more than me that know How sad is war, an’ fearful, An’ since the good God plans it so, I must try to be cheerful; But when the lilocks air in bloom, An’ when the day’s a-dyin’, I creep off to my little room An’ have a fit of cryin’. BLUE EYES. Violets, violets, blossoming low, Shadowy grasses under; Blue, blue eyes, Up at the skies Peering, as if in wonder. What tho’ the garden with bloom be sweet, Its mantle the wood renewing; And the birdlings glad Be rollicking mad And musical in their wooing; What tho’ the streamlet softly flow, Murmuring, laughing, grieving, And the livelong day The zephyr gay Story and rhyme be weaving; Never the spring-time hath been complete Till, the long grasses under, I find blue eyes Up at the skies Peering, as if in wonder. THE APPLE-GATHERING. Apples, apples, apples, Here they come tumbling down, Yellow, and white, and rosy, Crimson, purple, and brown; Seek-no-further and russet, Gilliflower, Jersey sweet, Strawberry, mellow _Fameuse_ Fit for a king to eat; Pound royals, golden pippins, Spitzenbergs hard and red; Take care! get out of the way, there, Or they’ll plump, Cathump, On somebody’s head!