For a glad song came from the milking shed, On a wind of the summer south, And the green was golden above her head, And a sunbeam kiss'd her mouth; Sweet were the lips where that sunbeam dwelt; And the wings of Time were fleet As I gazed; and neither spoke, for we felt Life was so sweet! And the odorous limes were dim above As we leant on a drooping bough; And the darkling air was a breath of love, And a witching thrush sang "Now!" For the sun dropt low, and the twilight grew As we listen'd and sigh'd, and leant; That day was the sweetest day--and we knew What the sweetness meant. [Decoration] _THE CUCKOO._ We heard it calling, clear and low, That tender April morn; we stood And listened in the quiet wood, We heard it, ay, long years ago. It came, and with a strange, sweet cry, A friend, but from a far-off land; We stood and listened, hand in hand, And heart to heart, my Love and I. In dreamland then we found our joy, And so it seemed as 't were the Bird That Helen in old times had heard At noon beneath the oaks of Troy. O time far off, and yet so near! It came to her in that hush'd grove, It warbled while the wooing throve, It sang the song she loved to hear. And now I hear its voice again, And still its message is of peace, It sings of love that will not cease-- For me it never sings in vain. [Decoration] _GERTRUDE'S NECKLACE._ As Gertrude skipt from babe to girl, Her Necklace lengthen'd, pearl by pearl; Year after year it grew, and grew, For every birthday gave her two. Her neck is lovely,--soft and fair, And now her Necklace glimmers there. So cradled, let it fall and rise, And all her graces symbolize. Perchance this pearl, without a speck, Once was as warm on Sappho's neck; Where are the happy, twilight pearls That braided Beatrice's curls? Is Gerty loved? Is Gerty loth? Or, if she 's either, is she both? She 's fancy free, but sweeter far Than many plighted maidens are: Will Gerty smile us all away, And still be Gerty? Who can say? But let her wear her Precious Toy, And I 'll rejoice to see her joy: Her bauble 's only one degree Less frail, less fugitive than we, For time, ere long, will snap the skein, And scatter all her Pearls again. [Decoration] [Illustration: Full-page Plate] [Decoration] SAMUEL LOVER. 1797-1868. _THE ANGEL'S WHISPER._[C] A baby was sleeping, Its mother was weeping, For the husband was far on the wild raging Sea; And the tempest was swelling Round the fisherman's dwelling; And she cried, "Dermot darling, oh come back to me!"