"Then off we stroll'd this way and that,
"With merry voices ringing;
"And Echo answered us right pat,
"As home we rambl'd singing.
"For, when we laugh'd, it laugh'd again,
"And to our own doors follow'd!
"'Yo, ho!' we cried; 'Yo, ho!' so plain
"The misty meadow halloo'd.
"That's all my tale, and all the fun,
"Come, turn your wheels about;
"My worsted, see!--that's nicely done,
"Just held my story out!!"
Poor Judie!--Thus Time knits or spins
The worsted from Life's ball!
Death stopt thy tales, and stopt thy pins,
--And so he'll serve us all.
THE BROKEN CRUTCH.
A Tale.
"I tell you, Peggy," said a voice behind
A hawthorn hedge, with wild briars thick entwin'd,
Where unseen trav'llers down a shady way
Journey'd beside the swaths of new-mown hay,
"I tell you, Peggy, 'tis a time to prove
Your fortitude, your virtue, and your love.
From honest poverty our lineage sprung,
Your mother was a servant quite as young;--
You weep; perhaps _she_ wept at leaving home,
Courage, my girl, nor fear the days to come.
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