The Departure.

'Remember what you promis'd me: 'And see, the Sun is getting low; 'The Children want an hour ye see 'To talk a bit before we go.'

Like youthful Lover most complying He turn'd, and chuckt her by the chin: Then all across the green grass hieing, Right merry faces, all akin,

Their farewell quart, beneath a That droop'd its branches from above, Awak'd the pure felicity That waits upon PARENTAL LOVE.

KATE view'd her blooming Daughters round, And Sons, who shook her wither'd hand; Her features spoke what joy she found; But utterance had made a stand.