That glided slowly, on and on,

Till there they lay, with shadow gone. And oh that happy hours should glide Away so soon, with time and tide.

CLOUDS

ONRIDING slow, at lofty height,
Were clouds in drift along the sky,
Of purple blue, and pink, and white,
In pack and pile, upreaching high,
For ever changing, as they flew,

Their shapes from new again to new.

And some like rocks, and towers of stone,

Or hills, or woods, outreaching wide;

And some like roads, with dust upblown In glittering whiteness off their side,

Outshining white, again to fade,

In figures made to be unmade.

So things may meet, but never stand,

In life; they may be smiles or tears:

A joy in hope, and one in hand;

Some grounds of grief, and some of fears;

They may be good, or may be ill,

But never long abiding still.

THE PRIZE WINNERS

SPEAKERS.-The Teller (7.) of the Cleveburn winners in games at another village. The Teller's Chorus (T. C.) of two or three young men come home with him. The Full Chorus (F. C.) of village hearers.

T

OLD CLEVEBURN for ever! Go, ringers, and turn
The brown tower door on its greystonen durn,

And take every man in his uphanging hands
The ropes' twisted strands-

F. C.

What now, then? what now?

7. And ring up a peal; for you ought to be proud

Of your brothers, and sons. Come and cheer them

aloud;

For the men of old Cleveburn will bring from the

feast

Three prizes at least.

T. C.

Now guess for the three.

T.

'Tis spryfooted Jim, and 'tis broadshoulder'd Joe, And young Willy that jumps like a winglifted

crow,

By the tall ashen tree.

F. C.

Here's a clap for each chap, then; hurrah!

T.

There Jim, with five others, went off with a bound From the line, on the grass; like a hare-hunting hound,

With outreaching breast; and with looks that no

face

Could turn from the race.

F. C.

Well done, Jim! well done!