T.

T. C.

And they shot through the tree-shades, like birds on the wing,

And could hear but one gush of the rock-leaping

spring;

And a rook they outstripp'd, with their flight on

the ground,

Turned hopeless around.

And spryfooted Jim

Came in quickly-panting, with red-blooming face,
The first by a nose—ay a head—ay a pace,
The sleekest of limb.

F. C.

T.

Here's a cheer, he should hear, then; hurrah!

Then on came the light-footed jumpers, to bound,
For height in the air, and for length on the ground;

And they sprang with their legs to their thighs

gather'd back,

Till they pitch'd, falling slack.

F. C.

Well done, then! well done!

T.

And they mark'd a long air-track, and settled as tight

As a rook in a field, from a few yards of flight;

Though one would pitch backward, and one pitch

ahead,

And one with firm head.

T. C.

But, in jumping, young Bill

Outstripped all the crew; and his heel smothered low

The head of a flow'r that had no other blow,

From a foot by the hill.

F. C.

Good strokes, merry folks, then; hurrah!

T.

Then on came the boats, up the river's broad face,
Each ploughing a furrow of foam, in its race,
While the oarsmen fell back, and their two oars

would turn

To sweep back astern,

F. C.

T.

T. C.

Well done, then! well done!

Or else as the down-leaning rowers would bow,
Their oars flew ahead for new water to plough;

As they floated by willow, or ivy-hung rock,
Or by herd, or by flock.

But broadshoulder'd Joe,

With the heat on his brow, and an oar in each fist,
Rush'd in with the first of the crews on the list
That did row.

F. C.

Well done, every son ! then, hurrah!

T.

So let Will leap the brook, where no bridge may

be placed,

And not stay to climb over bars in his haste,

But over them bound, ay, and over them fly,

In his shoes ankle high.

F. C.

Well done, Will! well done!

T.

T. C.

And Jim run the fields of old Cleveburn, a match;

For a hound in full run, or the hare he would

catch,

And Joe row his boat up the stream, with a

For who among us is ashamed to belong

To Cleveburn, with men that are spry and are

strong

As Bill, Jim, and Joe?

F. C.

It is done; they have won ; then, hurrah!

WORK AFIELD

HUSBAND AND WIFE

H. ALL day below, tall trees in row,

In trimming boughs, that kept me warm;

The white chips played, about my blade,

In wood that baffled wind and storm;

No voice did rise, but sounds of cows,
And birds' thin cries, by tangled boughs,

Where leaves down-shed from beeches red,

Had fallen o'er the grassy bank,

Or else lay down, all withered brown,

By elm-trees up in stately rank.